Forget Me Not
by Seasonal Dreamer
Summary: SEQUEL TO HOLDING ON - Dylan's away at University, but how will that effect their relationship? Who's there to comfort Marco? Who finds him after all this time? Read and review to find out ;
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T (mostly, for now, to be safe :P)

**Author's Note: **HEY EVERYBODY :D haha well here it is! The sequel to _'Holding On' _:D It mayyy not be as insanely long as the first one, but I worked hard on it :D And I hope I live up to my standards! So please read, and review!

P.s. this story is dedicated to my two biggest supporters **ellielovesdtng **and **maplebird** :) thank you guys for sticking with me this whole time!

* * *

"Hey Paige, have you heard from Dylan recently?" Marco del Rossi asked cautiously, bracing himself.

"No, hon, sorry. I haven't heard from Dylan since he last visited."

That was three weeks ago. Marco looked crestfallen as he sat down across from Paige. It was sunday morning, or, as it was known in the Michalchuk/del Rossi home, homework and study day. Paige Michalchuk looked at him sympathetically. She rested her head against Marco's and said comfortingly, "I'm sure he'll call soon, hon. University is stressful, and I bet if he could he'd talk to you twenty-four seven."

Marco gave her a small, appreciative smile for her sake more than his own. _What if Dylan had met someone in University that he really...well, that he really liked? What if he...forgot about him?_ Marco mentally slapped himself. _Oh stop being a melodramatic idiot. Paige is right, University's a lot harder than high school and he's probably swamped right now. He'll call. He has to, it's almost been a full month!_ _Dylan wouldn't forget about you, not after everything we've been through. Or cheat on you for that matter._

_Then why hasn't he bothered to return any of your phone calls? _A nasty voice leered in his head. _He could've texted you, it takes maybe three seconds to do that. Just to let you know why he couldn't call. And that he misses you and loves you...You know, if that were still true._

_Shut up!_ Marco silently growled. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned to the pile of homework they had received that weekend and tried to focus. Jimmy, Spinner, and Ashley came over later to work on it together, but Marco still couldn't concentrate.

"Earth to Marco!" Ashley waved her hands in front of Marco's eyes, bringing him back to reality.

"Wha-?" he sputtered, looking at them as if just realizing they were there.

"You okay, man?" Jimmy asked.

Marco placed a fake smile on his face. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, you just seemed kind of distant."

_You have no idea, _Marco thought as they all turned back to their work. His gaze, however, kept drifting over to his cell phone, half-heartedly hoping that he had received a message from Dylan and just didn't hear it despite the obnoxious ringtone he had assigned to them.

Paige kept a careful eye on Marco the entire homework session, worried. And angry at her brother. He hadn't been in touch with any of them since he visited almost a month ago, and even then he seemed distracted and not very attentive. Whether it was because he was under so much work stress, or just 'having fun' the younger Michalchuk sadly wasn't sure.

And that was killing them.

"That's it!" Spinner exclaimed, slamming his notebook down on the table. "I don't understand a thing!" He turned to a slightly surprised but highly amused Marco, easily the smartest one of the group. "Help me?" He whimpered.

Paige grinned at her boyfriend, rubbing his arms comfortingly.

Marco rolled his eyes and said, "Alright, what's the problem?"

"I'm stupid," Spinner muttered dejectedly.

"I'm with Spinner on that one," Jimmy laughed, getting a deserved shove from his friend.

"It's all this Shakespeare crap," Spinner grumbled, more to himself then anyone else. "I don't see how this can count as actual English if no one understands it."

"What Sonnet are we doing again? The first one?" Paige asked.

_"From fairest creatures we desire increase, that thereby beauty's rose might never die, but as the riper should by time decease, his tender heir might bear his memory," _Marco quoted in a beautiful voice, not once looking down at the actual Sonnet.

Everyone stared at him, open mouthed.

"What?" Marco asked self-consciously.

"Dude, this is why I need you!" Spinner cried, grabbing Marco by the shoulders and shaking him slightly.

"Easy, Brokeback Mountain," Jimmy chuckled, loosening Spinner's hold on the Italian boy.

Ashley looked at her friend with extreme admiration. "That was amazing. I'll never know how you seem to know everything. But at least I can always ask you the answers if I'm stuck..."

Marco gave her a wink. "Lucky you."

Ashley grinned, turning back to the Sonnet. Spinner, however, was staring at Marco desperately.

"Okay, okay, Spin, calm down. I'll help. Just tell me what you need to know," Marco conveyed.

"Everything."

Marco ran a hand through his dark hair, struggling to think of how to explain something like _Shakespeare_ to someone who never paid attention in English class a day in his life. However, he did his best and was surprised to see that he actually managed to break through. Weird.

"Hon, you should be a teacher. You've taught Spin more in half an hour then three years of English combined," Paige complimented, impressed.

They were just cleaning up the kitchen as everyone else had gone home. "Huh? Oh, thanks," Marco said absent-mindly. He had converted back to wondering hopelessly about his distant boyfriend.

"You okay?" Paige asked quietly, giving him a concerned look.

Marco smiled as best he could, but his eyes gave him away. "Yeah, of course Paigey. I'm absolutely fine."

Paige nodded, letting the subject drop for now, but started subconsciously biting her lip. They both knew that Marco was lying, but the Italian boy appreciated that Paige, for once, let him leave it at that.

* * *

_I wonder what he's doing now? Is he going to call soon? Is he really too busy with hockey and work and...friends that he ca-"OW!"_

The last part he uttered aloud as his eyes focused on the drumstick that clattered to the ground. Spinner. His hand had flown up to cover the part of his head that had been hit.

The Italian looked up at Spinner Mason's blazing eyes, only they didn't seem so much angry at him for zoning out, then what he assumed his distraction was. Still, Marco flinched. Those eyes demanded a response from him, but it was the kind of response Marco couldn't give.

Spinner might not be the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to anything school related, but people he knew. A street smart over school smart sort of thing.

Marco smiled weakly and stated apologetically, "Sorry, I guess I must've spaced out." The guitar that he had been holding loosely in his hands got shifted into a tighter grip.

"No kidding," Craig rolled his eyes but when his gaze fell on the guitarist it was kind and understanding.

Marco cued them all in and the rest of the band practice when by without a hitch, though if you listened closely you could hear that a guitar's music was off beat and out of tune. Though Craig, being the generous person that he'd always been, apologized that it was _his_ guitar that was acting up so the other bandmates would bother _him_ about it instead of Marco. The lead singer figured Marco had enough troubles to deal with then the wrath of their easily irate band members.

However Spinner wasn't going to play along.

After practice had ended and everyone else had started to leave, Spinner reached over and grabbed a retreating Marco by the collar and successfully stopped him in his tracks. Though it did cause the Italian to emit a starngled and surprised sound.

Spinner, however, looked at him closely. He took in the darkness of his eyes. The black dots that speckled the almost-equally-as-dark brown eyes seemed to be racing like storm clouds, a prediction of the fury that could form later on. A prediction of the hurricane that would come crashing down if he let it, or the sorrowful rain that could fall as tears if he really got hurt by Dylan. But as of right now, they were just clouds.

It was crazy how Marco could make such things appear in his eyes. Like when he got excited, you could've sworn they were lit up just like the starry sky. The twinkle they'd emit was astonishing, and you got excited yourself just by looking in them, regardless of what it was. And when he was bothered and lapsed into silence, you could almost see the metal bars and the brick walls start to build themselves up from deep within his eyes, making you feel suffocated and trapped. It wasn't like Marco tried to make his eyes do that, they just did. His eyes were so powerful that if looks could kill, and Marco really out his mind to it, he would be the army's first line of defense.

"Marco, you need to snap out of it," Spinner spoke suddenly after several moments of deep scrutiny.

Marco looked surprised, though he knew he shouldn't be. The Italian figured that one of these days someone other then Paige would begin to badger him. "What do you mean?"

Spinner lowered his voice to a more gentle tone, though it still had an underlining of force to it. "Look, Marco, I know about Dylan and I know you're distracted, but you need to try and focus on other things. It's for your own good, bud."

Marco lowered his eyes in slight shame. He felt like he was being histrionic and stupid. It had only been about three weeks...maybe four...a month? Anyway, the point was he shouldn't be all depressed about it.

"I know, I won't Spin," Marco lied before he turned on his heels and leaving Spinner with no room for comment.

And despite how sparsely it happened, Spinner was right. But Dylan would be just as distraught as he was, Marco was sure of that.

Right?

* * *

T minus six weeks and counting since Dylan had actually acknowledged that Marco existed. And the Italian was getting seriously frustrated.

"Did I do something?" Marco exclaimed to Ellie one day. "Did I say something wrong?" They were sitting on a bench in the mall, shopping bags resting by their feet and sipping a highly caffeinated frappucino.

Ellie Nash gave her friend a sympathetic look and squeezed his hand. "I highly doubt that Marco. You're the perfect boyfriend." She winked. "I should know; I was the first person to take a crack at you."

Despite his mood, Marco gave her an amused smile. But then he sighed. "Then why do I feel like he's moved on?"

For that, Ellie didn't have an answer. It was strange. Dylan went from treating Marco like his entire world, to not calling and not acting like he wanted to be there when he visited. And Ellie was furious to say the least. Marco was the most optimistic, supportive, and emotionally strongest person she had ever known. He was with her for the entire time she went through the whole depressed, cutting epidemic before he had even met Dylan or realized he was gay. Marco had been the most understanding, and though it hurt and saddened him, he didn't judge her for it. She'd never forget that, and she sure as hell wouldn't let some guy put him into the same state she had been in.

She may have seemed cold or mean, but she didn't hug him or shoot him sympathetic looks. Ellie knew better then anyone that those looks were what got to people the most. She _hated_ knowing that people had felt sorry for her and it got real annoying, real fast. Everywhere she went, those looks would follow her and make her lash out at people, which in return made people label her off as a freak and exclude her. It was just a giant domino effect and the last thing she wanted was for Marco to go through that.

"Do you want to just watch a movie tonight? You know, relax?" Ellie suggested, changing the subject.

Marco looked gratefully at her and said, "Sure El. Sounds good." He tried to sound as enthusiastic as he possibly could, but it just was not coming out like it should've. Marco felt bad, but he hadn't been too energetic about anything for a while.

So they walked to Ellie's house(which, thankfully, was pretty close to the mall) and got all comfy on the couch, curling under blankets and making an almost illegal amount of popcorn. They put on only movies that were sure to make them laugh, but while Ellie's were genuine, Marco's were forced. He'd only laugh when Ellie did, so hers would cover how robotic his really was. The Italian really appreciated what Ellie was trying to do, but he knew deep down it was a lost cause. There was only one thing that would make him happy, and sadly, it wasn't able to be there with him.

"How's your band doing?" Ellie asked him suddenly, staring right into his eyes with a hard look. The way she asked that question made Marco feel uneasy.

Looking a bit surprised, Marco answered, "Um...alright. Craig and Jimmy think we should try to do an R&B song, you know, to add a little variety? But I think Spinner thinks that's a muppet, so it might not work." Ellie laughed at that, and Marco smiled a bit, though he was still sad.

She stopped abruptly, looking at him with such intensity that Marco seemed almost crazily sure she could see right into his soul. Marco shifted his gaze away, but her lighter, yet still dark, brown eyes continued to rake over his features almost beseechingly. The Italian almost had the urge to just shout in her face what she wanted from him. But he couldn't do that...it just wasn't him...

"What do you want Ellie?" So much for that.

But she didn't seem offended. In fact, she looked like she almost expected it. "You know, you have the same look in your eyes like I did when my mom started drinking," she said softly, sounding uncharactistically like herself.

Marco almost winced. He knew she had a problem with saying she cut herself, so she would always refer to that period of time as when her mother had started drinking. Not that she hadn't stopped, but it was getting better now that _she _was better. Gradually, anyway. He just responded with giving her a confused look.

"Your eyes...they've always been...well, unique. Somehow, you've always beem able to make things happen with your eyes...no one else can do that you know," Ellie started. Marco had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "But there's one thing I recognize because it's what I used to always see whenever I would look in the mirror."

"The point, Ellie?" But Marco asked this gently, knowing how hard it was for her to say these kind of things. Wow. She must really being chewing over this.

"You're eyes look dead, Marco. And I know it's been a while since Dylan has called, but really. This is...this is getting kind of scary." And she did look frightened. The Ellie Nash was afraid. For him. Huh.

Marco gave her a slight roll of his eyes and did his best to smile reassuringly and make whatever was appearing in his eyes get the hell out. The brown haired boy didn't even know his eyes showed that much, and he did his best to try to control it as he spoke, "El, really, don't worry. I'm completely fine, just a bit confused. Honestly, you shouldn't even be bothering yourself with this."

"Marco, I _want _to be bothered with this," Ellie said insistently, placing a hand over Marco's. He began to feel ridiculous. "I wish someone had bothered me about my...problem...right as it started so I wouldn't have to have..."

Marco withdrew his hand quickly, looking somewhat trapped. "I _don't_ have a problem El." Her smiled at her like he thought she had gone a little crazy.

Ellie raised an eyebrow but said no more. People this far into denial were impossible to reason with. She'd just have to keep her eyes on him, that was all. They both turned back to the movie, determindly, and simultaneously, acting as if their talk had never happened.

Soon, it became too difficult to keep their eyes open, and they decided to throw in the towel on this movie fiesta. Marco pecked Ellie on the cheek as a goodbye, and let himself out of the house. The Michalchuk's house wasn't that far away, and he liked walking during the evening. The air felt cool and refreshing, and most appealing of all, silent and devoid of all people. He could finally give his tired mind a rest and let it just go blank, relishing in the peace of it all.

But not tonight.

_"You know, you have the same look in your eyes like I did when my mom started drinking..."_

_"You're eyes look dead, Marco. And I know it's been a while since Dylan has called..."_

Was he really turning into dark, cutting-herself-Ellie?

These thoughts kept vibrating through his head. _No, of course not. I'd _never_ do something like that._

But his inner voice had something else to say as well. _Maybe not, but obviously something's really wrong if people are starting to think you might._

_Leave me alone. _He growled at it. Really, this wasn't helping matters.

When Marco finally got there, he quietly let himself into the sleepy house, and tip-toed up the stairs. Exhausted, Marco crashed on the bed and fell asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

Let me know what you think! But, you know, first read the next chapter ;) haha I put up two for you guys ;) -


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T (mostly, for now, to be safe :P)

* * *

_The Italian boy heard the faint footsteps walking cautiously towards him, and he got up into a crouch, ready to spring out of there at any moment. Marco carefully peered around the desk's corner, hoping with all his might that the intruder wouldn't see him…_

_Suddenly his vision went blurry and it flashed to himself creeping around a corner to find the staircase. Sighing with relief he lightly hopped down it and ran through the corridor; the front doors weren't too far away!_

_Suddenly he heard loud and heavy footsteps thundering down the stairwell. Marco heart ceased beating for a few seconds before he tore down the hallway and rounded the corner, not caring that he probably heard his feet crashing on the tiles. If he hadn't ran as fast as he did, the intruder would've caught him anyway._

_"HEY!" The man bellowed and Marco heard his feet quicken too. _Almost there...

_Extremely rough, and large hands grabbed him from behind. The hooded man threw his arm around Marco's neck, remotely constricting his airways, while the other bent his arm behind him. "There you are," the man hissed in his ear._

Marco was jolted awake as his body hit the floor, crying out in shock. He swung his head around as if expecting the guy to be standing over him. He took a deep breath and tried to still his shaking as he got back in his bed. He was really getting tired of this.

Normally, he'd have talked to Dylan about it, but after weeks of rejection, he highly doubted that Dylan really wanted to hear it. Marco contemplated calling Ellie (even though it felt like he just left her house), since she was good at keeping a secret and the only one besides Dylan, really, that knew. Paige, being the loud mouth that she was, was only on a need-to-know basis with stuff like this; he really didn't need Marco-is-weirder-then-we-thought rumours flying around Degrassi. It was hard enough being gay.

However, he knew Ellie well enough to know that to say that she'd be miffed if he called her this early would be an understatement. Sighing, Marco unhappily sat on the edge of his bed and wondered what Dylan was doing right now. Though, at the moment, instead of depressed, he was furious.

_Why has he been ignoring me? Do I not deserve an explanation? _The anger that he felt made him too hyper to stay sitting. _For all I know he could be messing around with some other guy and not have the guts to tell me. Jerk._

He wanted to hit something.

Marco still talked to Ryan a lot, however, and quizzed him constantly about why Dylan wasn't calling but Ryan had come up blank. He had promised to pass on the message, but he really wasn't too comfortable getting in the middle of a fight between two of his best friends.

Frustrated, Marco signed on to 'Live Messenger'. Sure, almost everyone else used 'Facebook' and 'MySpace,' but Marco just didn't see the point in letting people know what he was doing and what other people were doing all the time. That, and all the games and quizzes that were on there that he personally just found stupid. He only ever needed to use the chat anyway, and made all his friends get one even if he was the only person they'd ever talk to on it.

He happily saw that Ryan was online, and started talking to him.

**delStudly101: **heyy ryan, what're you doing up so early?

**EpicPopsiclez: **MARCO!

**EpicPopsiclez: **buddyyyy what's upppppppppp?

**delStudly101: **...

**delStudly101: **dude, what's with the name?

**EpicPopsiclez: ***grins* what?

**EpicPopsiclez: **you don't like it?

**delStudly101: **it's very original...

**EpicPopsiclez: **shut uppp.

**EpicPopsiclez: **maybe i should change it to '..sucks.'

**delStudly101: **oh, i don't know, i kinda liked you're 'assmonkey' one...it suits you better

**EpicPopsiclez: **touché.

**EpicPopsiclez: **why don't i just change it to '..' and leave it at that?

Marco laughed. Sensing that he and Ryan seemed to be in for the long run tonight, he quickly snuck down stairs to grab a highly-caffeinated pop before answering back.

**delStudly101: **so, ry, what _are_ you doing up?

**EpicPopsiclez: **whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there del rossi.

**EpicPopsiclez: **first of all, my name's ryan.

**EpicPopsiclez: **not 'rye.'

**EpicPopsiclez: **i am not a type of bread.

**delStudly101: ***laughs* sorry RYAN, didn't mean to offend. I'm kinda like over-tired here and running on maybe five minutes of sleep so my typing's going to be a little lazyyy

**EpicPopsiclez: **ah. _no problemo signore_. we've all been there before

**EpicPopsiclez: **and second, ican't sleep either

**EpicPopsiclez: **when you shipped your boyfriend off to live with me you forgot to mention that he can out-snore a motorcyle without a muffler when he wants to.

**EpicPopsiclez:** one just passed by and if it wasn't for the window in front of me i would've never known.

Marco's breath caught angrily and he didn't answer for a little while. _So Dylan can sleep all fine and dandy while I'm sitting here, slowly becoming an insomniac. .tic_

**EpicPopsiclez: **uh, marco?

**EpicPopsiclez: **this is where we laugh and make fun of dylan? like old times? dude, don't skimp out on me here, this is my favourite part.

But Marco barely noticed Ryan had responded. He was seeing red. The minutes ticked by.

**EpicPopsiclez: **marco i know you're there, you're too curious not to be, so either i said something to tick you off or something's buggin' ya and i wanna know

**delStudly101: **so michalchuk's sound asleep is he? that's great. that's realllllll great.

**EpicPopsiclez: **oh. i see now. the big lug still hasn't called you yet?

**delStudly101: **no. answer me one thing ryan. is he cheating on me?

**EpicPopsiclez: **what?

**EpicPopsiclez: **dude, if he was i'd kick his ass.

**EpicPopsiclez: **no, i dunno what his problem is, but he hasn't been cheating on you del rossi.

But Marco couldn't trust Ryan on this. He was Dylan's friend first, for all he knew Ryan was covering for him. Or Ryan just hadn't seen him in the act.

**delStudly101: **unfortunately i'm not so sure.

**delStudly101: **i'm going to try to get to sleep before my eyes become permanently bloodshot. night ryan.

**EpicPopsiclez: **wait!

Marco quickly signed off, not giving Ryan a chance to protest further. He was positive he'd hear about it later; Ryan was famous for the angry text messages. But he could deal with that. He just really didn't want to talk to anyone right then.

* * *

_You're in trouble._

That was the text that greeted Marco the next morning. And, of course, it was from Ryan.

The lanky boy hated, no, loathed when people shut him out so he expected to get chewed out later. Though, since Ryan had confessed to him a while ago that he always felt guilty yelling at him, he felt that he was in a better place than most.

Which explained the text that was apparently sent two minutes afterwards.

_Urghhhhh.  
Just...forget it.  
I'm here if you need to talk...  
Not that you're going to have much of a choice, because I'm calling or messaging you later del Rossi, and if you don't answer, guilty or not I will go all 'Mr. T' on you and kick your butt.  
I mean that in the friendliest way possible._

Marco inwardly wondered why his grammar was so much better when he texted than IMed. Shrugging, he put his phone away and glanced at the daunting pile of unfinished homework on his desk. He'd fallen so far behind, but he just couldn't find the energy to care anymore. Marco only did what little he and Paige could on Sundays and no more than that. The only way he'd managed to keep from failing his classes were the fact that he got one-hundreds on every test and quiz. The teachers didn't understand it, but then again, what do they know?

Marco finished getting dressed and shoved papers and notebooks into his bag. When he got downstairs, Paige gave him a sleepy smile as she held a steaming cup of coffee. Marco needed caffeine. Badly.

Marco didn't say a word as he poured himself a cup.

"'Morning Marco, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine," he lied.

Paige's eyes took in those dark circles but she didn't say anything again, which was so unlike her. _Marco, snap out of it, please, _she inwardly begged. Paige, too, had tried to contact Dylan, but he seemed to be ignoring her too. _Now_ we have a problem. You don't just ignore Paige Michalchuk. You know, unless you wanted to die.

Oh, he was so going to be in for it.

Marco and Paige walked to school, having bits and pieces of a conversation, but nothing like it used to be. Nowadays they, more often than not, would collapse into silence. It was strange for the both of them, since they had always been so loquacious, especially with each other. But now, Marco only really spoke when addressed directly. He never offered up his opinions or suggestions or initiated contact, and Paige wasn't used to talking to, for lack of a better word, a brick wall. One person can't just keep up a conversation with themselves.

Little did Paige know what Marco was silently brooding deep within the walls of his mind. Every little detail, every little flicker of the grass' blades to the butterflies landing softly on the ground reminded him of Dylan. He couldn't even explain it to himself, really, why this hurt him. The beauty should have been a comfort to him, as it normally would have been, but maybe that was the reason.

In so many ways, Dylan was beautiful. From his sparkling eyes to his glowing personality. He pretty much _radiated_ energy, building his own forcefield specifically designed to draw Marco in. Like Dylan was the sun, his own personal ball of fire and energy, blinding him and shining so much it was almost painful, yet like the sun, he couldn't look away. All those good feelings, happiness, comfort, love...they were a packaged deal with the sun. And now, his light had disappeared, and Marco was standing in the dark, feebly waiting for dawn to come.

The school day went by in a blur, and before the brown eyed boy knew it he was at his locker again and packing his bag. Everyone had started to notice Marco's drastic change in attitude. Even one person who Marco hadn't thought of in a while.

He was unsuccessfully trying to remember what he had to take home, when the voice that belonged to that forgotten individual interrupted his thoughts.

"Marco."

The Italian boy froze, and turned around, not believing his eyes for a moment.

"Tim."

* * *

To say that Tim was pretty much unshakeable would be an understatement. Sure, he had been known to throw in the towel now and again, but most of the time he didn't know the definition of 'quit.'

Which was often the reason why people confused his 'determination' as 'desperation.' There really was a fine line between the two of them. The only difference is that when you're desperate, you're not quite 'all there.' So maybe Tim was desperate, in a way. Anyone who'd want to take on Dylan Michalchuk for his boyfriend had to have some screws lose, though he'd obviously tell you otherwise.

But he had been fairly good with them. He'd kept his distance for the better part of a year, and he was almost oddly proud of it. But he did watch them.

Creepy? Yeah, maybe. Fun? Not so much.

Would you enjoy watching someone you, more or less, loved and wanted to be with kiss and hold hands with someone you hated? Obviously if it made Marco truly happy, Tim would leave him be, but he wasn't too sure Dylan was the one who was right for him. Of course, he wasn't exactly an unbiased party, as he had a certain someone, namely himself, in mind who he thought would be much better for the Italian. But that was just him.

He had made a promise, though, that if Marco and Dylan's relationship stood now that the older of the two was in University, something he had threatened and warned both Marco and his boyfriend about, then he would honestly move on. Or try to, at least.

However, recently, Tim had noticed something rather...well, suspicious. Marco had been looking increasingly melancholy. At first, Tim had unhappily noted that it was probably due to the fact that Dylan had just left, but now he honestly seemed...well, despressed. It'd thrown him for some time, until he found out from-

(Paige.)

-someone, by over hearing their conversations, that Dylan hadn't kept in contact with him for a long time. And that the last time he visited, he acted like he didn't visit because he missed Marco, but because he felt obliged to it.

And Tim was pissed.

He'd have given _anything_ to be the one Marco loved, but here was Dylan, so fortunate to be that person, and he was treating it like nothing.

Well, it looked like all bets were off the table now.

* * *

"Tim," Marco greeted with a tiny trace of hostility. Really, this was probably the last thing he needed right now.

"Do you want to grab a coffee with me? It's not a date," Tim hurriedly added, seeing Marco open his mouth to interrupt him. "I swear. You just look like you could use a pick-me-up right about now."

Marco considered this for a moment. This was, after all, both the Tim he had loved as a brother and the Tim who had tried to ruin his relationship with his boyfriend. But right now, the need for something caffeinated was too tempting to turn down. _Was he becoming addicted to coffee?_ Quite possibly yes.

"Yeah, sure Tim," Marco nodded, throwing his last book into his backpack and shutting his locker door.

They walked to The Dot in silence that wasn't altogether uncomfortable, but both felt slightly awkward. After all, the last time they had talked Marco had more or less told Tim to get the hell out of his life. But then again it hadn't exactly been undeserved.

They sat down at a table in the back in hopes that no one they knew would see them and give them the third degree as to why all of the sudden they were speaking again, let alone having coffee with each other. Thankfully, Spinner(who now worked at The Dot) didn't have a shift today so they were free to order.

Once they were all settled with their coffees, Tim looked at Marco more closely. He looked thoroughly exhausted and miserable, though the hot drink seemed to be making him happy. Tim suddenly had a horrible flash back to when Marco hadn't been sleeping(though he never found out why), and he didn't like it at all.

"So, how've you been Tim?" Marco asked, his voice curious but his eyes wary.

"Pretty good," Tim lied. Truth was, he hadn't been good for a while.

However, Marco looked relieved. "That's good," Marco mused, going back to his slowly-becoming-famous distracted look.

"Alright, that's enough. Marco, what's the matter with you?" Tim demanded not unkindly.

Marco looked honestly surprised. "What?"

"What's making you so depressed? You've been like this for a while and people are starting to worry." By people, he mostly meant himself.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "What, is that the only reason you brought me here? To interrogate me?" He sipped his coffee and waited for an answer.

"You know that's not true, but you know, whatever. Now answer the question del Rossi." Tim gave him a poor imitation of a smile.

"Yes officer," Marco rolled his eyes. But his face dropped considerably as he looked down at his cup. "Dylan doesn't seem to want to talk to me. Have anything to do with me, really. I'm trying not to think about it," he smirked. "But obviously that's not working."

_I knew it, _was all Tim's enraged mind could make out. "That's stupid. Like really stupid. What's his problem anyway? Did you two get in a fight?"

Marco snorted. "Like it would be that simple. No, I have absolutely no idea what I could've done to offend him so much, but apparently it's something too horrible for words because it's been a good month and a bit since he last bothered to talk to me."

You see, the thing Marco appreciated about Tim was that he didn't look sorry for him. He looked just as Marco felt. Angry. Though minus the sad part.

"I always knew you were too good for him," Tim mumbled.

Marco gave him a powerful glare and growled, "Take that back."

Tim looked a little surprised at the venom in his voice, but said, bordering on harsh, "No. You are too good for him, I always knew that. And what he's doing right now just proves it."

"You don't know anything," Marco shot back almost instantly.

Tim raised an eyebrow and said flatly, "I know more than you think del Rossi. He could never be what you need."

Marco stood up angrily and made to leave, but Tim lightning fast grabbed on to his sleeve, his expression melting away into that of a pleading one. "Don't go. I'm sorry, that was mean. I just hate seeing you like this."

Regarding Tim like a trainer would watch a wild animal, Marco cautiously sat back down without a word. An uncomfortable silence settled down on them until Marco couldn't take it anymore. "Look, I know you don't like Dylan, but he's not a bad guy. If he was I wouldn't love him. He just...makes mistakes sometimes. But I know he loves me too. He's just...overwhelmed." It sounded a lot more like he was trying to convince himself then the green eyed boy in front of him.

Tim had winced slightly when Marco had said he loved Dylan, and the Italian suddenly felt a surge of guilt and sympathy run through him. He looked so vulnerable, like a single word could knock him over, and Marco felt a brotherly protectiveness come over him.

He saw Tim mutter something, but he didn't quite make it out. "What'd you say?"

"I said he's not the only one that loves you, you know," Tim said quietly, looking at Marco with intense eyes.

Marco's stomach knotted together and he looked down at the table. "Tim-"

"I know you don't see me that way, Marco." Tim interrupted. "And it hurts, sure. But it also hurts to see you this upset. So go. Figure things out with Dylan. I won't bother you, I swear to god I won't. But just know I'll always be here for you whenever you need to talk." And with a sad smile, Tim patted Marco's shoulder and left the restaurant without a proper goodbye. Marco sat in his guilt and confusion as he turned slightly around to watch him go, both boys feeling like everything was still unsettled between them.

* * *

Okay, _now_ please read and review! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T(mostly, for now, to be safe :P)

**Author's Note: **Okay, so just a warning, there is some slight language in here...just watch out haha I felt like that needed to be said :P And p.s., I'm probably going to be even more speedy on this story then the first, which altogether I found pretty quick :P, because I basically have the entire story planned out, I just have to do a bit of editing here and there :P I got the idea in the middle of the first one so I was kinda juggling two stories at once haha :P Just wanted to let you guys know so you won't think I was some sort of speed demon haha :P

**ellielovesdtng: **Thank you so much for the review! :D I'm glad you like it so far :) But it's only the beginning so hopefully it'll get better :D

Read and review! They make me happy :)

* * *

It had been months.

Not just days. Not just weeks. Months.

And Marco was hurting. Badly.

Marco could drive now, but he didn't go down to Dylan's or anything like that. Marco had long ago stopped calling him or bothered asking Ryan anything about him.

And despite all his better judgments, Marco did continue to talk to Tim. Even now, he found himself remembering those countless conversations they had had since then.

_"I don't know what to do anymore," Marco had finally confessed one time after several minutes of small talk, not sure if he was angry or sad anymore. He just felt numb._

_Tim's green eyes looked at Marco like he was some rare gem. A rare gem, that someone else(technically) already owned. "This isn't fair, and you know it's not. He doesn't have the right to ignore you like that. I know _I _wouldn't."_

_Marco had chosen to ignore this. "I just...I can't even form words..."_

_"Is it...is it really better to hang on when you know he might not feel the same way?" Tim whispered, more to himself then the distraught boy in front of him after a few moments of silence. "Isn't it just cleaner to leave now?"_

If you had overheard this conversation, you could've taken it one of two ways. Tim could've simply been talking about his relationship with Marco, or lack thereof, but Marco took it to mean about him and Dylan. And he couldn't help but think he was right.

Was it really better to hang on then to let go?

Marco walked sadly to the park, mulling this thought over in his head. He fell on to the bench he and Dylan had always sat on, not caring about his surroundings. Was _nothing_ going to stop reminding him of him?

Tim was going to be meeting him there. They had become just as good friends as they had been before they had their fall out. Tim was a great listener, which was exactly what Marco needed right now. Not a talker like Ellie or Paige. Just a listener, because he had a lot to say.

A shadow crossed his own and he looked up unsurprisingly into a pair of green eyes. A strange thought crossed his mind. He felt no flutter in the stomach like he did when he looked into Dylan's blue eyes. No blush felt like it would form, no light shined from his face when he looked into Tim's, yet he knew that if he had never met the blonde hockey player he could've very well fallen in love with the younger boy. With more time than it took for Dylan, anyway, but the point was he could. They were very similar, and Marco felt comfortable with him. Yet he had met his true love already, and anything other than him just wouldn't cut it.

So it hurt to know that Dylan might have moved on.

"Hey," Tim smiled a timid smile. He used to use this as a way of gauging what kind of mood Marco was in, but now he knew that it was always the same one. Always the same, heartbreakingly sad one. It was just a reaction now, that tentative smile. It helped hide how much it was killing him to see Marco this way.

"Hey." Marco, for once, didn't know what else to say.

Tim sat next to him in silence, feeling his heart do a loop de loop in his chest. He wondered if Marco ever felt this way around him too, but he quickly pushed that out of his mind. Now was not the time.

But right now, Marco just needed his company. Talking just didn't seem like an option today, but having Tim sit loyally beside him made him feel, other than the obvious reason, better then he think anyone else could. The green eyed boy never left his side, never felt awkward and decide to leave, never started talking when Marco plainly wanted nothing then just his presence. And if that was all Marco needed from him, then dammit he'd give it, because for a while at least he felt wanted by this boy. Even if it wasn't _exactly_ in the way _he_ wanted.

Marco and Tim sat there for hours, just watching the people who passed by and the trees. Just watched them as the continued on with their lives. Marco often would see these happy, smiley people and wonder what their story was. Who loved them? How many woke up to the one they loved every day? How many knew what he was going through? How many had it worse off?

So many questions...yet so few answers.

That seemed to be the basis of his life.

* * *

Dylan Michalchuk sighed, leaning back against his pillow in relief. Finally, he had time to relax. University had been getting extremely stressful since he left Marco. Extreme guilt suddenly swirled around in his stomach.

Ah.

Marco.

He rolled over on to his side and stared at a framed picture of the younger boy and himself smiling stupidly at the camera at his Prom. Dylan felt horrible and insanely lonely, because he hadn't had a single conversation with his boyfriend since he came back. And that was _months_ ago. And...it was completely his fault.

He just didn't think University would be so _hard!_ Or time consuming. And that was just the academic portion of it. The social one was almost just as demanding. He wanted to have the full 'University experience,' with a few exceptions, so that meant alone time was pretty much non-existent. _Oh god, what Marco must think,_ Dylan inwardly groaned. For all he knew, Marco could be thinking he was cheating on him. Panic took him then. That was _exactly_ what Dylan had wanted to avoid!

He reached for the phone, hoping his guilty conscience would be put at ease once he talked to Marco. The older boy dialed the number.

Marco was lying in bed, his right leg propped on his left, foot jiggling as he read a particularly interesting book. It was the only thing that could almost distract him nowadays. His cell phone started ringing and he reached for it, not tearing his eyes away from his page.

"Marco del Rossi's phone," he greeted easily, not having the faintest idea who was on the other end.

"Marco?"

The Italian boy's heart stopped, his eyes going huge. He dropped his book on the floor as he sat up. "_Dylan?_" Marco said in a very disbelieving and slightly angry voice.

"Hey honey," Dylan smiled.

Marco's nostrils flared. "Oh, so you _do_ know I exist?" he snorted.

Dylan looked ashamedly at the ground. "I'm sorry, Marco. University's just a lot more...demanding then I expected."

"Really." Marco's voice was hard, unforgiving. And worst of all, it was hurt.

Dylan's voice became urgent now. "Marco, I'm so sorry. I should've called more often-"

"More _often?_" Marco almost shouted incredulously. "Dylan you barely called _once._ What, was it too much of a hassle to keep in contact with me?" Marco snapped. "Was I too much of a burden or something? It's been months, Dylan."

"No! No, Marco you're not!" Dylan rushed to get his words out. "And I'm sorry! I didn't mean to ignore you, it got all crazy with the work and...and everything else -" Even he could hear how guilty he sounded saying that last line. Great.

Marco sighed heavily. "Just stop, Dylan, you don't need to explain."

Dylan wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more worried. Marco's voice hadn't been exactly kind. "I-I don't?" he asked.

"No, I get it. You're in University now, things have changed." Marco's voice broke slightly as he said this. He laughed without a trace of humour. "I mean, who were we kidding, right? Us? Staying together while you were living it up in Toronto? In _University?_"

"No, wait-" Dylan said frantically, realizing what he was implying.

"Seriously. I get it. Don't let me hold you back or anything. Have fun in University, Michalchuk." There was a click as Marco hung up.

The Italian boy stared at the wall in front of him, slightly dazed at what he'd just done. And finally, the pain of the last couple months finally caught up to him, and he started crying into his arms. _Goodbye Dylan,_ Marco thought as tears poured down his face.

* * *

Dylan's mouth was gaping open, phone still held up to his ear in shock. "No," Dylan mumbled, refusing to believe it. "No, that didn't happen." He redialed Marco's cell number, waiting. But he got sent straight to voicemail. "No..." He tried again, and again, and again, but still no answer. "No, no, _no!_ Pick up _god dammit!_" He screamed as he chucked the phone forcefully into the wall before he broke down completely into his hands.

_"Why!"_ he sobbed. "Why didn't I call him? Why didn't I visit him? What the hell is wrong with me?" His heart was breaking. Marco thought Dylan had moved on. He thought Dylan didn't love him anymore.

He needed to let Marco know the truth. Dylan gingerly slid off the bed and picked up his phone and found it all broken apart. Alarmed, Dylan picked up the pieces and attempted to put it back together, but it was no use; his phone was destroyed.

Dylan let out a shout of fury and pounded his fist once against the wall. _Where the hell was Ryan when he needed him?_

The older boy burst through the dorm room's front door, searching furiously for his roommate. Dylan sprinted through the hallways and into the campus, not answering anyone when they shouted out 'hellos' or his name. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Dylan, he spotted his lanky friend purchasing a coffee from a small, outdoors coffee stand. For some reason this infuriated Dylan. He was buying a _coffee_ when he had spent probably _hours_ looking for him?

Dylan ran over to him and grabbed Ryan by the collar of his shirt. Ryan yelped in surprise and whirled around to face an extremely agitated best friend. "Oh, hey Dyl," Ryan greeted, raising an eyebrow at Dylan's expression.

"Where's your phone?" he demanded.

"Uh, where's _yours?_" Ryan answered, smirking slightly. He didn't notice the seriousness of his friend's tone.

Dylan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him so they were almost nose to nose. Ryan looked shockingly into Dylan's blazing eyes. "Your phone. _Now,_" he growled, shoving Ryan away from him slightly.

Ryan thought it was best not to argue and dug out his phone from his back pocket, his bewildered eyes never leaving Dylan's face. "Here."

Dylan snatched it and punched in Marco's number, walking swiftly away from Ryan and anyone else near them. His friend decided not to ask where he was going with his phone; he'd get it back eventually when Dylan had cooled down.

The elder boy's heart sank heavily when he got sent to voicemail too. Only this time, he left one. "Marco? Listen, before you hang up and delete the voicemail, please hear me out." He took a deep breath. "I know you hate me right now, and you have every right to. I was a jerk. A stupid, careless jerk. But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you!" He paused. "Please, don't be mad at me. I can't stand it. Just...call me back, okay?"

Sighing, Dylan pressed the 'end' button.

And waited.

* * *

Marco had been well aware that Dylan had tried calling back several times, once(he assumed it was Dylan...he wasn't stupid) using Ryan's phone. But he ignored him. It hurt more than anything he'd ever felt, but he couldn't get the disturbing thought that Dylan might've cheated on him or completely forgotten about him for months out of his mind. After all they'd been through together...he just couldn't handle it.

He spent hours up in his room. Marco kept glancing at his phone; he knew he had a voicemail, no doubt from Dylan, and he knew he should delete it right away. But he was dying inside to hear it, mostly due to the curiosity.

He was biting his lip so hard it started bleeding. Eventually groaning in frustration, he gave in and picked it up. The annoying, monotone lady started speaking and he was tempted to shout at her to get to hurry up. And to try talking with some emotion for once.

_"You have...one...new voice message. You have...two...saved voice messages. First message."_

Finally!

"_Marco?_" It was Dylan's voice. He was tempted to erase it right then and there, still full of hurt and anger before he heard Dylan continue quickly, "_Listen, before you hang up and delete the voicemail, please hear me out._"

Wow, was he really that predictable?

"_I know you hate me right now, and you have every right to. I was a jerk. A stupid, careless jerk. But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you!_"

There was a pause.

"_Please, don't be mad at me. I can't stand it. Just...call me back, okay?"_

The boring, robotic lady came back and said, "_End of new messages. To erase this message, press seven. To send a reply message press eight. To save it press nine. To hear more options press four._"

Marco went back to biting his lip, tears stinging his eyes before he pressed number seven. He didn't want to hear Dylan's excuses or his lies. The fact of the matter was, Marco obviously hadn't been important enough to Dylan for him to completely ignore him for months.

Rage suddenly replaced sorrow and he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be his pillow, and chucked it at the wall. He jumped out of his bed and found anything and everything that he knew he couldn't break and hurled it everywhere in fury; it would only make him more angry if he had to pick up broken pieces of glass or something he actually liked and broke by mistake. He shouted stormily at the top of his lungs, cursing Dylan as he made a mess of the room they had once shared. Why was it that Dylan meant everything to him, but now Marco wasn't even worth a phone call?

He flopped on his bed face down in remorse and cried some more, weakly hitting the mattress as the tears poured out. "Why did you do this to me, Dylan?" He murmured. "When did everything change?"

"You messed up bad, Dyl," Ryan muttered, patting his friend's shoulder. He didn't want to chew him out for not calling Marco(Dylan was feeling bad enough as it is), but it was hard. Ryan thought that treating your boyfriend or girlfriend like some plague for months at a time was definitely a no-no. Which was why he had kept up constant contact with his girlfriend Keely. He didn't have the faintest idea why Dylan didn't do the same with Marco. Sure, they didn't exactly have the same classes so the work load was different, but still.

"I know," Dylan sniffed, wiping at his red and puffy eyes. "I d-don't even know what...why...

"To be honest, man, I don't know what the hell was up with you either," Ryan agreed, taking the hint of his friend's unfinished sentence. He never was one for tact. So much for not chewing him out. "I mean, what did you expect him to think when you ignore him like that? Fuck, _I'd_ be pissed."

Dylan cringed into his pillow. "I'm s-such an idiot! I d-don't know, I got c-caught up with all th-the work and I guess the fr-freedom that I just..." He started weeping harder.

Ryan's arm on his back froze for a second, remembering all those nights he'd spent out extremely late. "Dylan...you didn't cheat on him did you?"

Dylan looked up from his pillow slightly in shock. "No! I didn't ch-cheat, but that won't s-stop Marco from pro-bably thinking I did!"

"Talk to him, Dylan. Just try explaining yourself." Ryan suggested. He really didn't know what to tell him other then he screwed up big time. "He might understand."

"I h-hope so," he whimpered. Ryan left him alone in his room to internally beat himself up for what he had carelessly thrown away. _Marco, I love you. I always have and I always will. Please...please forgive me! I didn't know...I just...I didn't know._

That was no excuse, though. What seemed perfectly obvious to everyone else had eluded him. Surely it was just common sense that you needed to talk to your boyfriend at least once in your lifetime. But he just...he had no reason. No reason at all except that it was just one of those things where time flew by so fast because there was so much he had to do that before he knew it...

He was single.

_No,_ Dylan growled. He was not single. He was taken. Taken by Marco, the boy he loved to no end. The younger boy couldn't just decide to break it off himself...isn't there a law against that? Dylan felt there should be, at least for him. Just to save him from this heart ache.

* * *

The next day Marco showed up to school looking disheveled, exhausted, and depressed. It took mere minutes to destroy his room, but hours to clean it back up. He barely slept and had huge dark circles under his eyes. Paige had been on the phone in her room the other night with a very distraught older brother after she comforted an equally as depressed Marco.

"How could you not call him, Dylan?" she had demanded into the phone as soon as she picked it up. "How could you not _visit_ him! He waited for _hours_ for you to call by the phone! Do you know how heartbreaking it was to see Marco's face fall when he realized you weren't going to call that day? What if Marco was in danger and you never picked up? What would you do then, huh? You live half an hour away in Toronto, how hard is it to-" She stopped her scolding abruptly when she heard Dylan bawling on the other side of the line.

Paige paused, sympathy working its way into her voice. "Hey, Dylan I didn't mean to make you-"

"Y-You didn't, Paige. Th-This is all my fault." Dylan had been cowering in his room, feeling empty. His blinds were closed and his room was comfortingly dark. "I d-didn't know how m-much I was hurting him. If I knew I w-wouldn't have kept it up! I was so ob-livious...Paige I barely noticed w-when he stopped calling!"

"How could you not notice when Marco didn't call you?" Paige had asked suspiciously.

Dylan knew what she was implying. "I w-wouldn't dare cheat on him, Paige. You kn-know that. The w-work here was just so stressful and I g-guess I was just s-so excited about the fact that I could b-be independent without falling f-flat on my face that I...I just...Paige help me, pl-ease."

They talked like that for a long while, him pleading with her on what he should do.

Now, Paige was squeezing Marco's hand gently as they parted ways to go to their lockers. The Italian boy hadn't said a single word all morning, and it was scaring Paige. At least before he had kept up a, granted small, conversation with her, but now...now he was deadly silent.

* * *

Ellie knew something was wrong. Marco had been sad before, but now he seemed downright depressed. And all her suspicions pointed to one person. Dylan.

If he had hurt her best friend anymore then he already did, she was seriously going to kill him. She sighed and walked through Degrassi's front doors, spotting Marco instantly. He stuck out like a sore thumb, even though she knew he'd rather just blend into the crowd.

And despite the damage to her reputation, Ellie stepped forward and hugged Marco tightly in front of the entire school, ignoring his _slightly_ surprised expression, and the rest of the school's _extremely_ surprised expression. So sue her if she wasn't exactly the most touchy-feely person in the entire universe.

She ducked her head into his shoulder, whispering into his shirt,

"Did you know you have the saddest sad face in the world?"

* * *

Dylan felt like he had nothing left. Nothing left to live for. He was sure Marco hated him. As soon as he had gotten a new phone, he called him every chance he got. And Marco never once answered.

Ryan walked into their room quietly and sat next to him. "This isn't healthy Dylan," Ryan whispered gently. "You need to work this out or you're going to go crazy."

"He hates me, Ryan," Dylan muttered as more tears fell. "I don't know what I can say to make him feel better. I was such as asshole." He looked at Ryan with watery eyes. "All I know is that I want him back, Ryan. I want him back more than anything...but I don't know when I can talk to him! He won't answer my calls or messages, and I don't know how I'll be able to get time off to go see him..."

"Hey, don't we have a long weekend coming up in a few weeks?" Ryan asked. "I think it's one of those five day things too. Go see him then, you'll have plenty of time to win del Rossi back."

Dylan nodded as Ryan left him alone. Waiting for it to come, though, was going to be hell.

Dylan didn't know how he could ever explain this to Ryan, but he felt like he had lost so much more than just a boyfriend. He had lost his life, and himself. The blonde was alive with nothing to live for. That was probably a good way to describe it. Everything reminded him of the younger boy. The breeze even carried whispers of him, past conversations coming back to haunt him. A psychiatrist would declare him insane if they had heard him thinking like this, but...he found he didn't care.

Lock him up. Experiment on him. Do whatever they want to him, he wouldn't care. All he wanted was his Marco back. An empty shiver ran down his spine as he sat in his own seclusion, no longer emitting energy or happiness like Marco had once thought, but rather leaking out dangerous feelings of sorrow. Of guilt. Because it wasn't like some freak thing had happened to pull them apart. It was him.

It was his fault.

There had been warning signs, but he had been far too selfish to see them clearly. The shades never got drawn up anymore, because the cruel irony of the sun warming him and twinkling at him just made him hurt more. He had had his own sun to wake up to, and this poor imitation of the happiness and warmth he felt when he looked at it was sad to say the least.

Music, now, was his only comfort. It had always been so important to Marco, and now it had become more like a life-style then a hobby. And there was one song that always played in his mind, no matter how much he had tried to drown it out. A song that had been written for him.

He couldn't wait to see him again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **MaddyGervais

**Rating: **T(mostly to be safe :P)

**Author's Note: **Okay, so this chapter kind of has a lot of song lyrics in it, but I think it fits so bare with me here ;)

* * *

Days, weeks went by and Marco's heart still wasn't _close_ to being even a _little bit_ mended. Dylan had tried to call him so many times Marco lost count, (Paige had graciously given him Dylan's number so he knew how to avoid it, though to be fair she didn't know this was why), and each time he didn't answer. It hurt more and more every time he saw Dylan's name pop up on his cell phone screen, but he couldn't fool himself any longer; he needed to move on.

However, that was easier said than done. Even the teachers had noticed how depressed and easily irritated Marco was in his classes. Twice his guidance counselor requested to see him, but both times she hadn't been able to extract any information from him.

He was like a walking corpse. Marco hadn't smiled or laughed since he ended it with Dylan. The ghostly palor of his face was alarming and people instantly seemed to be repelled by the sheer emotions of depression that seemed to come off of him in waves.

And even before then he wasn't like his normal, optimistic self. Waiting for Dylan to call, going to bed knowing yet another day had passed without hearing Dylan's voice...The Italian boy cringed away from that memory; it was too painful.

So, cue the _next_ painful memory.

_"Well, we have the holidays and long weekends together right?" Marco had asked hopefully._

_"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss that for the world."_

_Marco giggled. "Good. And you better call regularly or you're going to come home to one angry boyfriend."_

_Dylan chuckled. "And I wouldn't want that, now would I?"_

Marco winced. When did those promises end? What part of _'you better call regularly or you're going to come home to one angry boyfriend'_ hadn't been clear?

He slumped to down the stairs after another sleepless night that seemed to have rained down on him long before he had decided anything. Like his subconscious had known all along that this would happen.

Mrs. Michalchuk eyed him worriedly, chewing on her cheek. She didn't know what happened; _Paige_ wouldn't even tell her, so she assumed it was really bad. Even Mr. Michalchuk, the against-Marco-and-Dylan's-relationship-from-the-very-beginning Mr. Michalchuk, was regarding the younger boy with some concern.

He really wasn't a bad guy, Dylan's father. It wasn't like he hated Marco or wanted his family to be miserable or anything. He just wasn't very good at accepting change, and finding out that Dylan was gay and had fallen in love with another guy and now that said guy was living with him, well...it was a lot to take in. And he did feel bad about how he'd acted. He really did. But he also had a lot of pride, and that often clashed with what he knew was right, and what he was really willing to admit he had been wrong about.

Mr. Michalchuk silently offered Marco some toast he had made, but Marco weakly shook his head. He felt too naucious to eat.

"Marco, eat something," Paige said forcefully, but her gaze was kind.

Again, he shook his head 'no.' He didn't feel like talking either. Marco just simply grabbed his bag and headed for the door. All three Michalchuks exchanged sad looks, though two of them didn't know what was wrong with the poor boy.

Sighing, Marco stepped outside and he found it was thunderstorming. After only a few seconds, he was thoroughly soaked. He groaned.

Marco was honestly starting to wonder how he was still alive.

* * *

"Dylan Michalchuk! Get you're head out of the clouds and _into this game!" _The coach roared furiously.

But as loud as the coach had shouted, Dylan barely heard him. He couldn't help but glance over at the stands and flashback to all those hockey games at Degrassi where Marco sat closest to the benches, shouting words of encouragement at Dylan's back before he would turn around and blow him a kiss. This was successful in both making Marco blush and everyone else glance at the pair strangely before looking away, feeling awkward. But the blush was all that had mattered.

Those days were gone.

Something large, and hard knocked into him and he went flying and crashing into the ice. Dazed, he looked up into the bemused and annoyed face of Ryan who was lying on top of the blonde. Stammering his apologies, Dylan squirmed from underneath him as they both attempted to get up without looking stupid.

It didn't work.

_Thank god this is a scrimage,_ Dylan thought as he watched the coach irately storm towards them.

"Smooth Dylan," Ryan murmured amusedly as he skated away, leaving Dylan to his own doom.

He spent the rest of their practice skating laps exhaustedly as he got screamed at by his over competitive coach until his voice got hoarse and he ordered Dylan to bed.

But the entire time images of Marco flashed before his eyes, forcing him to skate faster and faster, trying to reach him.

He went to bed sore that night. The long weekend couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Tim walked silently beside Marco.

Oddly enough, he was the only person Marco didn't mind having around him. He even spoke to him now and again, and he greatly appreciated the fact that Tim stayed silent whenever Marco wanted to, and listened intently whenever Marco spoke.

Though Tim didn't know, every place that they were walking to were meaningful places to Marco. About Dylan. The lake...the arena...the beach...the park...every where. Even the icecream truck Marco had once grabbed a note from Dylan off of from a moving car they visited. The guy would always grin at him and ask where the 'tall blonde' was. His dynamic duo. The man didn't know they were gay, of course, and Marco often wondered whether that would make much of a difference to the icecream seller. But each time he asked, Marco would wince and whisper quietly that he wasn't here right now. He was away in University. Tim would watch this painful scene play out and wish everyone would just leave the poor boy alone. Of course they didn't go to all of them in one day, but they did visit them and stayed for a while.

Marco was starting to wonder whether he was becoming a glutton for self-punishment. Why else would he go to these places? Obviously he could get icecream from another place, but he would only accept it from that specific truck. And there were other beaches and parks that he could go to if he wanted, but it was only the ones he and Dylan went to that he would visit. What was _wrong_ with him?

The most Tim was able to extract from Marco was that he and Dylan were officially over. And his heart ached for the Italian boy. He looked so sad...he'd do anything to make him happy. Anything.

At the moment, they were walking next to the river. Whatever was left of the coloured-changed leaves that had fallen a while ago flew and twirled around them in the cold breeze. Fall had always been Tim's favourite season. As of late, winter was Marco's, though autumn came as a close second, even though the Italian got cold way too easily.

Tim breathed in deeply the smell of the crisp, fresh air. The smell of the already fallen leaves. It was already leaning towards winter, but Tim simply savoured the season while it lasted. For some reason, fall always made him want to sing. Don't ask him why, because honestly he couldn't give you a straight answer. Perhaps it was because fall had just a refreshing atmosphere, or the vibrant coloured leaves just made you feel joyful inside. Whatever the reason, as Tim looked at the trees, the sudden urge to sing coursed through him, and he was never one to deny such a feeling. But, he also didn't want to seem insensitive to Marco, or embarrass himself by singing badly, though he had had years of practice.

So he whispered, but in the stillness of the river and the air made his voice ring out louder then he had anticipated.

**_"He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes. Started making his way past two in the morning, he hasn't been sober for days..._**

Leaning now, into the breeze, remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees, they had breakfast together, but two eggs don't last like the feeling of what he needs.

Now this place seems familiar to him."

Marco looked at him strangely, hearing the lyrics bounce through his head. They had such feeling to them, so he opened his mouth and replied,

**_"She pulled on his hand, with a devilish grin, she lead him upstairs, she lead him upstairs, left him dying to get in."  
_**

Tim was startled slightly, but he looked Marco in the eyes and they both sang, their faces free of all emotion and not once breaking eye contact.

**_"Forgive me I'm trying to find, my calling, I'm calling at night, I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen this girl?_**

She's been running through my dreams, and it's driving me crazy, it seems...I'm going to ask her to marry me...

And even though she doesn't believe in love, he's determined to call her bluff. Who could deny, these butterflies, they're filling his gut.

Waking the neighbours, unfamiliar faces, he pleads, oh he tries, but he's only denied, now he's dying to get inside!

Forgive me I'm trying to find, my calling, I'm calling at night, I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen this girl?

She's been running through my dreams, and it's driving me crazy, it seems...I'm going to ask her to marry me...

The neighbours said she moved away, funny how it rained all day. I didn't think much of it then, but it's starting to all make sense.

Oh I can see now, that all of these clouds are following me in my desperate endeavor, to find my whoever, whoever she may be..."

They sang for what felt like hours as they walked, the cold air chilling them but their unpredictably deep friendship warming them from the inside out and filling the void, if only for a moment, that lay in Marco's heart. The void that used to belong to a boy named Dylan.

* * *

_Dylan was smiling._

_He was sitting next to Marco on his window sill, and they were talking and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. Like nothing bad ever happened between them._

_The sun was shining off Dylan's golden curls and his shimmering blue eyes twinkled at him, making Marco's breath catch. He loved the older boy. And he knew he probably always will, though at the moment he couldn't remember why he'd ever think otherwise._

_Dylan gave him the 'look.' The famous Dylan-is-about-to-kiss-me look that Marco absolutely swooned over. He was leaning down close to him, Marco's eyes started to close... _

He woke up as his alarm rang, gasping. He looked around, almost expecting Dylan to be lying there next to him. When he realized that he was now, in fact, back in reality, tears covered his eyes, but he stubbornly held them in. Dry sorrow hurt more, but if he cried anymore he'd be permanently dehydrated.

Marco was surprised the world kept spinning, kept making its sun rise and set each day. Kept itself going. Because to him, his world had ended the day he left Dylan. He hated that he missed him so much. Marco wished he could have him back, but he was still very resentful towards him.

These days he felt like he was on auto-pilot. Every morning he'd wake up, cursing himself for living yet another day. He'd shower, get dressed, and go off to school with Paige, not speaking a single word. Then, he'd come home and shut himself away in his room. Or he'd go somewhere with Tim. They'd sing sometimes, their voices going together better then what they expected.

When he was home, however, he usually played his guitar to pass the time. And to be completely cliché, he only played sad songs. Though when he was feeling particularly rebellious, he did throw a few angry songs in there from time to time.

But he steered clear from the song he had written for Dylan. That would just be beyond cruel to play that now. He wasn't a sadist, after all.

Normally, he'd play for hours, just sitting on his window sill, alternating between already composed songs and just strumming sad, nameless tunes. And everyday, Paige would walk by his room and pause, listening to the music and feel her heart reach out to him. Marco was as good as a brother to her, but he had been pushing her and basically everyone else away. He wouldn't open the door no matter how much she threatened to break it down. She actually tried it once, too, but it wouldn't budge. It was a shock, really. Dylan would've definitely given in by then, but Marco stayed strong. Whether it was due to will power or the fact that he honestly couldn't care less whether Paige broke down the door or not, the younger Michalchuk wasn't sure.

And it scared her.

_Dylan, fix this please, _she silently begged as she stood by the door, listening to Marco, once again, strum sadly on his guitar.

* * *

It was raining.

_Well that's fantastic, _was all Dylan could think as he snuck outside Marco's window. He silently thanked to god that his room was the one with the roof outside it. He effortlessly climbed it like he had done so many times, and stood there, just staring at the curtain-drawn window. The long weekend had finally come and as soon as he could get out of there, he more or less sprinted to his car and hopped in.

Dylan knew what he needed to do. Ryan hadn't been much help, but thankfully he had been able to figure this out on his own fairly quickly. He just hoped it worked.

Taking a deep breath, not caring whether his parents, Paige, or the entire world heard his terrible voice, he started singing.

**_"__This time, this place, misused, mistakes. Too long, too late, who was I to make you wait? Just one chance, just one breath, just in case there's just one left._**

'Cause you know, you know, you know..."

Marco was tossing and turning in his sleep. He had the strangest dream that someone was trying to break in to his room. The Italian boy wasn't scared of the person, exactly...more like he was angry with him for some completely unrelative reason.

...It made sense in his dream.

**_"'Cause you know, you know, you know..._**

I love you, I loved you all along, and I miss you, for far away for far too long.

I keep dreaming, you'll be with me and you'll never go. Stop breathing if I can't see you anymore."

Groaning Marco opened his eyes blearily in the darkness. He sat up and rubbed his temples exhaustingly as if trying to work out his over-tiredness with his fingers. Swinging his feet over to the side, Marco made to get up so he could get a glass of water...

And froze.

He heard singing. Granted it was horrible, but there was someone singing...outside his window. At first he crazily thought it was Tim and was about to shout at him angrily to get off his roof, but he stopped dead.

**_"On my knees, I'll ask, last chance for one last dance._**

'Cause with you, I'd withstand, all of hell to hold your hand. I'd give it all, I'd give for us, give anything but I won't give up."

He knew that voice. And he knew that song. And only one person knew that it was one of his favourites. Marco hurried over to the window and threw back the curtains. There was Dylan, soaked to the skin, shivering, but singing his heart out. The older boy looked at the boy he loved so much standing there in shock and utter disbelief. So he continued.

**_"'Cause you know, you know, you know..._**

I love you, I loved you all along, and I miss you, for far away for far too long.

I keep dreaming, you'll be with me and you'll never go. Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore."

Marco felt his heart melt and the tears well up in his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. Placing one foot out of the window, Marco stepped on to the roof and just stared at the one person he thought would never come.

**_"I wanted, I wanted you to stay. 'Cause I needed, I need to hear you say._**

I love you, I loved you all along. And I forgive you, for being away for far too long.

So keep breathing, 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore.

Believe it, hold on to me, never let me go, keep breathing, 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore. Believe it, hold on to me, never let me go.

Keep breathing, hold on to me, never let me go."

Dylan waited desperately for Marco to say something as he finished, not faltering, staring into his eyes.

"What're you doing here? At three-thirty in the morning I might add?" Marco asked in a hushed voice, getting drenched by the rain as they spoke. But he hardly noticed

Dylan was relieved to hear that his tone wasn't angry. He looked awkwardly down at his feet as he whispered, "I needed to talk to you."

Marco just stared back at him with those alien looking eyes. They weren't the eyes Dylan loved. His eyes were full of warmth and love. His eyes twinkled with laughter and happiness. These imposters were cold and hurt. Distant. The elder boy desperately wished he could bring the old ones back.

"Marco, I want you to listen to me, okay?" Dylan began, looking at him with pleadingly. "Really listen. Not just pretend to listen and make your own assumptions of what I'm trying to tell you, alright?"

The younger boy sighed. He figured Dylan deserved that much. The hockey player saw Marco give him a curt nod with his tussled hair, and he felt a sudden strong desire to run his fingers though them.

How in the world had he lasted so long without this boy?

Taking a deeper breath than was neccessary, Dylan continued. "First of all, I am so, so, incredibly _so_ sorry Marco. There's no excuse for what I did. I was a complete jackass. A moron. An insanely stupid, dense-"

"Is there a point to this?" Marco interrupted. He didn't need Dylan to tell him how he acted.

"Yes. I need you to know that I never cheated on you or anything like that." Dylan looked intensely into Marco's face, trying to force his eyes to look at him. "School and the whole idea of being on my own for the first time in my life just sort of caught up with me."

He saw Marco's expression start to shift and he continued hurriedly. "I didn't realize that so much time had passed, but don't think you weren't on my mind almost every second. I made promises to you that I didn't keep and I'm going to regret that for the rest of my life, but I need you to know that I never once stopped loving you."

"You didn't bother to talk to me for months, Dyl," Marco said softly, his voice showing all the pain he felt. "It's kind if hard to believe that."

Dylan's heart was breaking at how vulnerable he sounded. It hurt much more knowing that it was all because of him. "But it's the truth. It kills me to know that I screwed up the one in my life that meant the entire world to me." When he saw that Marco was still not looking at him, he jumped to his knees in front of the younger boy. Dylan stared at him with imploring, desperate eyes before whispering, "Okay, I'll be the first to admit it. I'm messy, obviously an idiot, and in short your exact opposite. But you mean everything to me, Marco," he placed two fingers underneath the younger boy's chin so his strikingly dark eyes met his, sending a shiver down his spine. "Everything. Please give me another chance."

Marco had never been more conflicted. He wanted _badly_ to believe him, but he just didn't think his heart could take another rejection, purposely or not. The Italian boy just stared into those blue eyes, feeling his resolve start to break and unsure if he wanted it to. He was still resentful, but he loved him. There wasn't much more Dylan could say, but the brown haired boy just couldn't bring himself to forgive him like _that_.At least not completely. And when he spoke it wasn't as accusatory or despressed, but kind. "I need to go to sleep, I have to get up for school tomorrow."

Dylan nodded, sad that Marco hadn't taken his apology right away but understanding this. "Do you mind if I stay?"

Marco paused for a few seconds, contemplating this, before shaking his head 'no.' He climbed through the window and gently helped his visitor through too. Marco flopped down on the blankets as Dylan looked around, wondering where he would sleep. Marco rolled his eyes quite obviously and scooted over in his bed to let Dylan crawl in. He wouldn't allow the older boy to wrap his arms around him or touch him or anything, but he let him sleep beside him. Dylan smiled to himself, feeling for the first time in months like he was home.

It was a start.

* * *

Okay so review please! I know this got up like extremely quickly but this chapter was the easiest to write haha :P Next one probably not so much :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T - there's kind of bad language in here, so if you don't like it...just pretend it's not there :)

**Author's Note: **Okay so I kinda combined two chapters together because I thought if I didn't the next one after this would be too short so I decided to create one giant-mega chapter :P haha it's a little sappy and the beginning is kind of unrealistic but read anyway! :D haha and **ellielovesdtng: **ohmygoshhh thanks! :D haha I'm so happy you think it's good :D!

* * *

Marco was tapping his pencil idly in his classroom the next morning. He kept thinking back to what Dylan had said the other night. Was he ready to forgive him yet? When his alarm went off that morning Dylan was still asleep, obviously exhausted. He got showered and dressed as quietly as he could, sneaking guilty glances at the gorgeous blonde in his bed.

The Italian boy realized how much he had zoned out on during the weeks since their break up. For instance, one of their very own teachers, Mr. Perino, had been under suspicion for harrassing and possibly abusing younger students. And that just a week ago, he had been fired and forced to do one-hundred hours of community service.

Marco's eyes kept flashing to the clock. As odd and as bad as Marco felt about this, the younger boy desperately wanted to know whether Dylan was staying for the rest of the day and the weekend. He made a promise to himself; if Dylan was still there when he got back he'd forgive him, but if he left, they were over for good.

_I can't sit here and listen to her babble on anymore!_ Marco screamed inside his head. He raised his hand and politely asked their science teacher if he could be excused to go to the bathroom. She nodded and Marco slinked out of the room. Taking a deep breath, savouring the feeling of freedom from the stuffy classroom, he walked into the bathroom.

As Marco splashed cold water on his face, the Principal, Ms. Hatzilakos, was calling all the teachers urgently. She was making this linked call as she hid under her desk.

When they all answered, the Principal frantically told them to evacuate the school. Someone had broken into Degrassi, and he looked dangerous. She didn't want to tip the man off that they were on to him, so she didn't make an announcement about it over the intercom.

Fearfully, the teachers got off the phone and ordered everyone to line up at the door. They were going to sneak out of the school, since the man didn't know they knew he was there. "What about Marco?" Paige cried frantically. "He's still in the bathroom!"

The teacher looked stressed. "It's my job to get the rest of you out of here. The police will come back here and find him, but for now, move!"

The entire school tip-toed out of the building, based on the timing of the Principal's instructions. They had hidden security cameras so she knew where the man was at all times and knew what class to send out.

Marco was taking as long as possible in the bathroom. From fixing his hair slowly to unwrinkling his clothes in the mirror. Sighing, he decided he had delayed himself long enough and sulkily started back towards his science room. He opened the door quietly, and was very surprised to see that no one was in there.

_They're messing with me,_ Marco thought, grinning. The teacher must've stepped out for a second and they wanted to play a joke on him. He closed the door, which locked automatically, and said loudly, "I'm not falling for it guys." No answer.

Little did he know that the man had been lurking a little while from his door. The intruder paused. He thought he heard a voice. Smiling maliciously, he started towards the door he thought he'd heard it from.

The science room.

* * *

Marco walked over to the windows, and saw the entire student-and-staff body backing away from the school as police cars and ambulances rolled up. He could see the teachers taking roll-call.

The science door knob started to rattle furiously, and Marco backed away from it, eyes wide with fear and understanding as his breathing quickened. _Oh my god, oh my god..._The Italian boy was paralyzed with fear for a few seconds before he dived under the teacher's desk. It all clicked. Someone had broken in.

Marco hid under the desk instead of locking himself in the closet for a number of reasons. One, because there was hardly anywhere for him to run in case the guy had a gun or knife and got into the closet. Two, because obviously if the guy could unlock a classroom door, he could unlock a closet. He was about as safe under the desk as he would be in the tiny room, and assuming the guy was smart, he'd most likely check the closets and stuff anyway. Thirdly, because the science classroom closet smelled about as pleasant as burying his face into three month old gym socks, and he would rather not lock himself in a small room in such conditions. He could probably die in there. And the final reason was because he had seen himself hiding behind the desk in his dream all that time ago.

Marco pulled his knees up to his chest, heart thumping painfully as he heard the door unlock slowly. He numbly thought this was like some horror movie, the door opening with suspense as the main character waited anxiously to see when and how they'd be killed. Only to usually escape with seconds to spare. Marco prayed that that would be the case for him.

The Italian boy heard the faint footsteps walking cautiously towards him, and he got up into a crouch, ready to spring out of there at any moment. Marco carefully peered around the desk's corner, hoping with all his might that the intruder wouldn't see him. He thankfully saw that the guy wasn't turned in his direction, however he knew he wouldn't have been able to see his face anyway because the guy had his hood pulled up over his head and the strings on either side of it were pulled tight.

Instead of a gun, like Marco had been afraid of, the guy held a very sharp-looking and long knife in his hand. Despite how equally dangerous this weapon was, Marco considered it slightly better than a gun, because at least with a knife you couldn't shoot it multiple times, or at all really. It was only when the hooded guy got close enough that he became truly deadly. As long as Marco stayed out of the man's reach, he should be relatively safe.

Marco didn't know when the right time would be to make a break for it; the room was pretty small and any sudden movement would _not_ go unnoticed. All of the sudden, the man's phone rang loudly, causing Marco to jump and clamp his mouth shut with his hand, silencing his would-be extremely noticeable gasp.

"What?" the intruder's husky voice answered, not sounding pleased.

There was a short pause when the guy replied, "No, there isn't _anyone_ left in this fucking school," the man growled, angrily kicking the trashcan on the other side of the teacher's desk, frustrated. Marco flinched. "Well what the fuck are we going to do now? Hold the god damn _flagpole_ as a hostage? I didn't sign up for this to go to jail for _nothing!_"

_They don't know I'm still here,_ Marco inwardly breathed.

"No I'm not fucking over reacting! I'm doing this for _you_ and we don't have anything to hold ov-" He stopped suddenly.

_"Come out with your hands up and Marco del Rossi unharmed!"_ A policeman demanded into a megaphone.

_SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK! SHUT UP!_ Marco furiously screamed inside his head. He hardly_ ever_ swore, and when he did it was words like 'damn' or 'crap,' which only demonstrated how intense his fear was.

"Hold on there a second," the knifeman said slowly, sounding amazingly surprised and excited. "I think there's still a kid in the school!"

There was a pause. "Well no _shit_ I've got to find him!"

Marco heard a muffled voice on the other receiving side of the phone.

"No, you're fucking brilliant, there's no way in hell I would've possibly thought of _that._" Marco imagined the man rolling his eyes in exasperation as he swiftly hung up. The inturder then proceeded to fling open the door, obviously deciding that Marco wasn't in that room.

Marco almost fainted with relief. He waited for what felt like hours before he apprehensively poked his head out and gratefully saw that the room was empty. The Italian boy shakily stood up. He looked at the blind-covered windows behind him and brushed the blinds slightly out of his way. He looked down from the second story that he was on and saw police cars, paramedics, news reporters, and perhaps everyone in the entire world out on Degrassi's lawn. The police were trying to keep the crowd far away from the school for their own safety, but they seemed to be having a hard time doing that.

He tip-toed away from the window(terrified!), braced himself and shoved his head out of the classroom. The hallway was empty. Marco slinked along the lockers, cautiously whipping his head around each and every corner for the hooded man.

He had to get out of there.

* * *

Dylan woke up dazedly to his obnoxious ringtone. He quickly glanced to his left, until he remembered that there was no one beside him to accidentally wake. Sighing he looked at the name and rolled his eyes. Ryan.

"Ryan, I'm trying to sleep," Dylan grumbled as soon as he picked it up.

"Dylan! Where are you? Did you see the news?" The blonde boy was surprised to hear the extreme anxiety in his voice. He could hear the revving of his friend's beloved car's engine.

"What's wrong?" Dylan asked, starting to get worried. Why was Ryan in his car? Where was he going?

"Christ, Dylan, I don't want to be the one to tell you!"

"Ryan what the hell is going on?" Dylan demanded. He imagined Ryan biting his lip indecisively. "Ryan I swear to God-"

"Fine! Fine, it's...it's Marco." Dylan's heart stopped. "He's, like, trapped with this fucking maniac who broke into the school." As calmly as Ryan tried to say this, the phone still slipped out of Dylan's grasp. He couldn't breathe.

"Dylan?" Ryan called into the phone. "Snap out of it buddy, you need to get down there!"

Dylan picked up the phone and said shakily, "You're sure it's him? How did this happen?"

"Dude, get in the car and I'll tell you on the way there. I'm almost at the school."

Dylan choked out an 'okay' before he sprinted to his car.

"I was flicking through the channels because I was bored, you know?" Ryan began. "So as I was searching, I stumbled upon a report about Degrassi. I thought it'd be fun to watch and see what's new with it, and...well they were talking with Ms. Hatzilakos about how some bastard broke into Degrassi and she evacuated the school but somehow Marco didn't make it out."

Dylan came to a dangerous screeching stop near the side of the road. He felt like he was going to throw up. Or faint, whichever came first. _Didn't make it out? _He didn't mean Marco was...dead? Cars honked furiously at him as the other vehicles swerved to avoid hitting him.

Ryan heard this and said hurriedly, "Dylan he's okay! Well...as far as we know, I just meant that he didn't make it out of building."

That didn't make Dylan feel any better. The love of his life was in danger. He didn't have any idea how he could make it all the way to Degrassi (even though to be honest it wasn't more than a five minute drive) without getting in a car crash. "Is he armed?" Dylan whispered.

Ryan hesitated. There had been a report that the man had a weapon on him, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Dylan that. At least until he was actually there in person. Ryan then said forcefully, "I'm not going to tell you anything else until I see you there. I don't want you to get into a car crash and die or something." He hung up, leaving Dylan more anxious than ever.

Dylan drove as fast as he possibly could. He needed to get there. Soon.

* * *

Marco crept around another corner and found the staircase. Sighing with relief he lightly hopped down it and ran through the corridor; the front doors weren't too far away!

Suddenly he heard loud and heavy footsteps thundering down the stairwell. Marco heart ceased beating for a few seconds before he tore down the hallway and rounded the corner, not caring that he probably heard his feet crashing on the tiles. If he hadn't ran as fast as he did, the intruder would've caught him anyway.

"HEY!" The man bellowed and Marco heard his feet quicken too. _Almost there..._

Extremely rough, and large hands grabbed him from behind. The hooded man threw his arm around Marco's neck, remotely constricting his airways, while the other bent his arm behind him. "There you are," the man hissed in his ear.

"What are you doing breaking into a school anyway?" Marco gasped, struggling slightly. "It's not like we have a stash of money to give you."

"Oh I'm not doing this for me," the man replied simply, walking slowly towards the front doors. "Let's just say I'm doing this as a favour. God knows I'm bound to get arrested anyway for all the other shit I've done. Might as well go out with a bang."

Marco was about to suggest he get a new group of friends if their idea of a favour was asking him to break into a high school and kidnap an eleventh grader, when the man tugged his arm higher up. "Ah, ah, ah," the man told him as the Italian boy cried out a little in pain. "Keep moving."

* * *

Dylan had to park a long way from Degrassi, as it seemed every Canadian citizen had come to line up on the school's property. As soon as he put it in park, the older boy shot out of the car, pressing the button to lock it as he tore towards the entrance, ignoring people's angry shouts as he shoved through the crowd. He went to run inside but a policeman saw him, blew his whistle, and grabbed him from behind.

"Marco!" Dylan shouted. It took three policemen to restrain him.

Ryan finally spotted him and ran up to the police. "Whoa there, whoa, what's the problem?"

An officer gave Ryan a strained look and said, "We can't let anyone inside the building. The man in there is dangerous and we can't jeopardize the student's safety right now. We need to find out what exactly he wants."

"And what if what he wants is to kill him?" Dylan glared at him.

The officer paused. "We'll give him five more minutes," he grunted, walking away. The other policemen gave Dylan a threatening look and let him go. Just as a precaution, Ryan grabbed on to Dylan's sleeve so he wouldn't do anything rash.

Dylan sat on the gravel, burying his face in his hands. Not knowing what was happening to Marco was driving him crazy. Tears started to prick his eyes, and he sniffed and wiped at them.

Ryan knelt down next to his friend and rubbed his shoulder. "He'll be fine, Dyl. I promise." Ryan looked unsurely at the door. _God I hope he's okay._

"He's armed isn't he?" Dylan asked softly, face still hidden.

Sighing, Ryan nodded his head dejectedly. "They think he is. They're not sure what he wants though, but I don't think the guy's sole purpose is to kill him. It'd be a pretty stupid thing to do in the middle of the day, at a school like three blocks away from a police station."

Dylan wanted to shout at Ryan and tell him that what he just said meant that the guy's crazy and obviously desperate and therefore capable of anything. But he just didn't have the motivation.

"He'll be absolutely fine, bud." Ryan repeated himself. "He's got this uncanny ability to make it out of tough situations. Just wait and see."

But suddenly the front door burst open and everyone snapped their necks quickly to look at who was coming out.

It was the intruder, and he was bending Marco's arm in an awkward position behind his back and the other arm around his neck. It looked like Marco was struggling to breathe. All at once the policemen raised their guns and pointed it at them, and Dylan sprang up and made to run to the pair but Ryan quickly held him back.

The intruder brandished a knife and held it up to Marco's neck, grinning evilly. Dylan had a mini heart attack right then and there.

"Put down you guns," Dylan told them frantically, and when they didn't immediately follow his instructions he bellowed, "For god's _sake_ put them DOWN!"

Despite Dylan not being an officer or anything, they obeyed and lowered their weapons. A policemen picked up a megaphone and said, "Tell us what you want."

The knifeman laughed. "Well, it's not really about what _I_ want, to be honest. Remember my friend Dom Perino? Yeah, he used to be a teacher here?"

Ms. Hatzilakos, rushed up and said quickly said to the policeman, "Yes, yes, he was fired for...a few reasons."

The officer spoke into the megaphone, "Yes, Mr. Perino did use to work at the school. Why do you mention him?"

The man answered, "Well, I just think that he was wrongly let go, and you should, no, you _are_ going to give him his job back. Do I really need to spell out what will happen if you don't?" He pressed the blade lightly into Marco's neck and he winced as the sharp knife made a red, thin line near his collarbone. A few drops of blood leaked out, but nothing critical.

However Dylan was going insane. He fought against Ryan's grip, wanting to kill the man himself.

"Dylan calm down, you're going to make things worse for Marco," Ryan hissed in his ear. Dylan instantly went limp and Ryan became the only thing stopping him from crashing to the ground.

Ms. Hatzilakos shook her head anxiously. "I can't put the rest of the school at risk!"

Dylan glowered at her with as much venom as he could manage. "You're also not going to let Marco get killed just because you don't have a back bone!"

"Dylan Michalchuk," the Principal replied sternly. "I understand you are upset, but you're not going to speak to me in that tone-"

"All I have to say is Marco better come back unharmed," Dylan warned murderously.

"Can we negotiate this somewhere more private?" The officer asked.

The man shook his head, smiling. Dylan thought he looked like he was seriously enjoying himself. The bastard. "Nope, can't say we can. Either he comes back as a teacher, or you lose a student."

"Give him his fucking job back," Dylan looked like he was about to lunge at Ms. Hatzilakos. His fear had turned into blinding fury.

He was lucky Ms. Hatzilakos was so stressed, otherwise she probably would've given him a month's worth of detention. And he didn't even go to Degrassi anymore.

"Alright, alright!" She cried into the megaphone. "He has his job back!"

The hooded man grinned. "Good. And just for some insurance..." The knife still held close to Marco's neck, he slowly backed up. As soon as they reached the door, the man paused. Everyone held their breath...

And he plunged the knife into Marco's side.

You could see Marco's eyes grow wide with pain as soon as it entered him, but his loud shriek was muffled by the glove that grasped his mouth and the screams and uproars of everyone in the crowd. But the loudest screech came from Dylan.

The strength went instantly from Marco's legs but the man held him upright, quickly vanishing into the school with him as the rest of the people all tried to swarm up. The police desperately forced them back and away, loudly demanding everyone to stay put because the more they tried to get in the longer it would take to get Marco out.

"The longer you wait to rehire him, the closer Marco comes to death!" The man sang from the second story window.

Dylan honestly wanted to kill him. He probably would've too, if he could. Sobs tore from his throat as Ryan numbly stared with his mouth wide open. Neither could believe that just happened.

The Chief of Police looked at his men and whispered, "On my count, we will storm the building. He's somewhere on the second floor, but we need to be exceptionally careful. That man is highly unstable."

The officers nodded gravely. The Chief held up his fingers before they all quietly swept inside.

* * *

Agony was tearing through him as the hooded man bounced up the stairs. It was pain beyond pain. He couldn't breathe...with every gasp it felt like someone kept stabbing and re-stabbing him with a knife that was on fire. His features were twisted and distorted, tears falling down his face as the blood dripped out. Everything spun around him...it burned so badly he barely knew his own name. However he faintly felt the intruder set him gently on the floor (most likely of a classroom) before distantly hearing him open the window and shout, "The longer you wait to hire him, the closer Marco comes to death!"

"Did you absolutely _have_ to...?" Marco groaned pathetically. His gasps were almost too impossibly shallow and quick...like he wasn't even breathing at all but just imitating the movements.

The knifeman grinned. "Like I said, it's just a little bit of insurance. Nothing personal."

Marco would've rolled his eyes if it were under completely different circumstances. "Please...make it stop...can't...breathe...bleeding...too m-u-ch...going to...throw...up..." Marco continued, blood pooling around him as he leaned against the wall, eyes closed. He looked deathly pale.

"What, are you afraid of blood or something?" The man smirked.

Marco gave the slightest shake of his head, but even that sent a wave of nausea and dizziness shooting through him. "No...just...losing...a lot..." Pain kept ripping and tearing on his side...he couldn't breathe anymore...it hurt too much...

"Yeah...yeah you kinda are." The intruder observed with interest, starting to search around the room. "We're going to have to stop that or you'll be dead before they even have time to pick up the ph-"

"DROP THE KNIFE AND STEP AWAY FROM THE BOY!" A policeman ordered as they burst through the door, guns aimed right at the man's chest. "I'LL SHOOT! I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL!"

The hooded man quickly dropped the knife, but Marco wasn't aware. He fainted way before the man even finished his sentence.

As the other police cuffed him, the Chief barked into his walkie-talkie, "I need a paramedic! Now!"

"It's alright son, you'll be okay," the Chief soothed, ripping Marco's shirt off him and using it to put pressure on the wound. Marco yelped at the pain, eyes flying open to look at the officer. "Marco, you need to stay awake," he said powerfully, giving him a hard look to make sure he got the message.

"Is Dylan...here?" Suddenly, he felt a lot less angry towards the older boy.

"No, son, he's not here right now," the Chief assumed this 'Dylan' was the young boy outside having a breakdown on the pavement.

"Can...he be?" Marco asked quietly.

The officer's heart went out to him, and he obliged. "Sure. Of course Marco." He pulled his walkie-talkie out. "Can you get that young, blonde man named Dylan up here?" There was a pause. "Yeah, that one." He looked down gently at Marco as the paramedics came in and tried to do what they could at that moment to stop the bleeding. "He's on his way up."

"Marco!" Dylan cried, bursting through the door. He slid over to Marco and fell to his knees, pushing the Italian boy's hair away from his face repeatedly.

"Hi...Dyl," Marco smiled weakly up at him. "Great way...to start off the weekend, eh?"

Dylan looked down at him through tear-filled eyes, his heart literally breaking into a million pieces. "You're going to be alright Marco, I promise."

Marco's smile fell from his face and he openly cringed. "It hurts," he whimpered.

"I know, baby, I know, but it'll go away," Dylan choked out.

The paramedics rolled in a stretcher and put him on it. Marco suddenly looked at Dylan, confusion mixing in with pain. "How'd you know...?"

"Ryan called," Dylan told him quietly.

"Mmm, okay," Marco murmured absent-mindly, his eyes drooping closed.

"Keep him awake," the paramedics ordered Dylan as they pushed through the crowds and got into the back of the ambulance. They hooked Marco up to something and got into the front seat. One of them stayed in the back to keep an eye on Marco, and Dylan joined her.

Marco looked sickly green, his eyes were clamped shut but in such a way that it was obvious he was still awake. Blood still poured out of him as the paramedic placed pressure on his punctured side with a clean cloth. Dylan sat beside him and held one of his hands. He looked into Marco's pained face and whispered, "I love you Marco. I'm so sorry about what a jerk I was. I love you, so stay awake. Please." He paused for a second before he continued softly, "Don't leave me."

Marco opened his eyes and looked at Dylan, a sliver of admiration showing in those hurt filled eyes. "I won't," he croaked, and his words had a double meaning to them. He closed them again, and the older boy held onto his hand more tightly. That was the last time Dylan saw his eyes.

"C-Cold..." Marco stuttered, his grip on Dylan's hand loosening. There were goose bumps on his arms as he shivered.

He panickingly looked at the paramedic. She just shook her head, as if to say there wasn't much they could do until they got to the hospital. She placed as many blankets as she could on Marco as more tears fell from Dylan's eyes. Marco's shallow breathing and drop in temperature was terrifying the older boy. But finally they arrived at the hospital. As fast as they could they rolled him into the building and through those huge, wooden doors, vanishing from sight.

* * *

The next few hours were hell. Dylan was biting his lip so hard he was sure there'd be permanent scarring, and he had paced in the same area for so long he was surprised he hadn't eroded the tile away. Paige and the rest of the gang had shown up a little while after Marco and Dylan had arrived, looking like they'd already lost their friend, and it scared Dylan. _He's going to pull through, god dammit!_ Dylan roared in his head. _He promised he wouldn't leave! He promised!_

_Ah, but you've made quite a few promises that you didn't keep, _a voice sneered inside his head.

Dylan had used up all his tears; he couldn't cry even though he wanted to. It was sad, really. Who runs out of tears?

Mr. and Mrs. Michalchuk showed up too, looking like they'd just lost a son. Maybe it was due to the fact that if Dylan lost Marco, they might as well say goodbye to him as well. Or maybe because Marco had become to seem like a son to them, after more than a year of caring for him. Either way, they desperately wanted him to make it.

Everyone but Dylan was sitting up against the wall. As Dylan paced, Paige sobbed on Spinner's shoulder, who, surprisingly, was crying himself. His face was screwed up with grief, and Ellie sobbed just as loudly into Jimmy's legs, who had tear streaks running down his face. Craig, Alex, Ryan and Hazel had their heads buried in their laps, though it was safe to say that they were just as depressed.

A doctor neither of them knew finally came through the big doors. Dylan sprinted towards her and all but grabbed and shook her. He demanded an answer.

She had short, pixie-cut dark brown hair, brown eyes, and was not much taller than five feet. "I need everyone to calm down for a second."

Dylan looked like he was about to reply scathingly, but Paige grabbed on to her brother's shoulder in restraint.

"My name is Dr. Hart. Now before you all start bombarding me with questions, let me firstly say that we gave him a blood transfusion. We think he'll be okay, but we won't know for sure until he wakes up."

This statement sent waves of relief through each person, but they were all still worried.

She went to walk away when Spinner exclaimed incredulously, "Well can we see him?"

Dr. Hart paused, looking unsure. "I'm not sure if that's for the best. He really does need to sleep-"

The look they all sent her stopped her in her tracks. Sighing, Dr. Hart replied, "You have to understand that you need to be extremely quiet. I'm talking absolute silence." They all nodded. "He's in room 409."

They took off running and all but broke through the door. Marco was lying there, covered in what seemed like more blankets then seemed necessary, eyes closed and ghostly white. It seemed so wrong. Marco's complexion was beautifully tanned and olive toned, not pale and sickly.

Paige drew Dylan into a hug, tears coming out of her eyes as well. "Just wait until morning Dyl. Just...just wait."

* * *

Dylan never left his side.

He refused to. The older boy would not dare miss the moment Marco woke up so he could exclaim profusely that he needed Marco to forgive him and take him back. He even told Paige, Ellie, pretty much anyone who happened to be there at the time, to not waste a second's hesitation to break down the bathroom stall if Marco showed even the slightest inclination that he was waking up.

All Dylan could think about was that he had to wake up. He'd been put into this situation before and he hated it. But this time it was so much worse because the last feeling Marco could trace back to Dylan was that he was unimportant. Which was the farthest thing from the truth.

"Dylan, hon, you have got to snap out of this freaky, depression state. It's scaring me."

Dylan removed his worn face from his hands and looked at his sister like she had just asked him to go skip double-dutch with her on the moon. But he didn't say anything.

She sat down next to her brother and gave him a warm hug. "It's not like I expect you to be prancing around here like everything's _'just peachy'_ or anything like that. If you were I'd send you in for some much needed therapy." Her voice adapted a more serious tone. "No, but I don't like seeing you like this, Dyl. It...I don't know what to do."

Dylan gave her a poor attempt of a smile. "Did you really just use the _'just peachy' _line in a sentence?"

Paige gave him a rueful smile, eyes watery themselves. "Guilty as charged." Dylan vaguely remembered that he'd used that line on Marco the first time he asked him out. Ouch.

The female Michalchuk noticed the slight wince and was completely dumbfounded as to what caused it, but decided not to interrogate him. Sighing, Paige pecked him on the cheek and went to go see if Ellie or Spinner had arrived to say their goodnights yet.

Which left Dylan and Marco alone.

* * *

Something happened.

They were waiting outside the waiting room. The doctors were in there, doing their last attempt of reviving Marco. His heart beat had been so faint that they rushed him to the emergency room. If he didn't pull through this time...

He never would.

Dylan couldn't take it.

He couldn't take the uncertainty.

As much as the news could kill him...he just needed to know.

Dylan's entire body was shaking as he chewed on his nails. He thought he'd go crazy, just simply waiting in the chair and hearing the boring, classical music playing in the background. Dylan's nerves were so shot, no one bothered to talk to him, because he'd either scream at them in fury or burst into tears.

Paige was stark white, sitting motionless while her boyfriend held her close. He was staring off into the distance with a daze himself, keeping his mind strategically blank.

Ryan uncharacteristically looked like he was having a heart attack. His heart beat so hard he swore he was actually having one. Well it's a good thing I'm in a hospital, Ryan's mind made a lame attempt at a joke. It was the only way he could possibly deal with this.

Ellie's eyes looked haunted. It was the same look she had taken when she had cut herself a few years ago. The look was scarily dead, like she'd never resurface.

Marco, meanwhile, lay in a limbo between life and death as the doctors worked tirelessly. Until tragedy struck.

Marco's heart monitor went silent.

* * *

_When I die, sing no sad songs for me._

_Don't cry and blame yourself,_

_Don't blame everyone else,_

_And don't shut yourself away._

_When I die, take this as a blessing._

_Take this as a lesson to live like there'll be no tomorrow,_

_Because for some of us,_

_There won't be._

_When I die, trust that you will see me again._

_Trust in everything we had,_

_Trust in what sweet words I've said,_

_Trust, ultimately, in us._

_When I die, let me be remembered._

_When I die, do not forget the love we shared._

_When I die, do not think badly on me._

_And when I die…_

_Let it not be anytime soon._

* * *

The next few minutes were frantic, but finally they achieved what they wanted.

The heart beat picked back up.

"Dylan?"

The shaky male lifted his tear stained face to look at the doctor's straight visage.

But then he smiled.

"He made it."

Dylan never knew true relief until he heard those words.

And he had never known true terror then before he had heard them.

And because of this relief, he actually fainted for a few solid minutes. Ryan, who had been sitting ghost-white next to Dylan jumped a good ten feet in the air with an incredibly loud 'whoop'. And what surprised everyone the most was that he actually broke down in to tears.

Ellie and pretty much everyone else in the room followed suit, and when Dylan came to he wanted nothing more than to run to Marco and never, ever let him go.

Unfortunately, they said Marco needed sleep, but they were welcome back first thing the next morning.

Dylan wanted to protest, but he didn't want to fight the people who saved the love of his life. So, however reluctantly and wistfully, Dylan did leave with the promise of tomorrow.

* * *

Marco, completely unaware of the little display Dylan and his friends had made mere hours before, opened his eyes, gasping, and sat up quickly. Too quickly. The room spun and he leaned back into the pillow wearily. He looked around and ran a bustle of nurses in the hallways and the sky outside the window was a light red. The Italian boy didn't know if that meant that it was rising or setting.

Marco also noticed that he was alone in his room. There were no visitors, doctors, nothing, and it made him very uneasy. Last time he awoke in a hospital bed , he had found Dylan staring at him with relief, and Paige happily crying at the door. But now...now he had no one. His eyes started to prick and he sniffed. Of course Dylan's not here, Marco thought sadly. It's not like we're together anymore.

It was odd, because Marco was so sure Dylan had been in the ambulance when...

Wait.

It all started flowing back to him in one giant rush. The night Dylan apologized, the hiding from the intruder, the stabbing...

He peered down at his side and was appalled to see angry, bloody stitches on his left side. Slightly(okay, more than 'slightly'), grossed out, Marco covered it with his hospital gown and sheets, a grimace on his face, and started to wait awkwardly for someone to enter.

A short, pretty, brown-haired lady walked in with a clipboard and smiled at him gently. "Good morning Mr. del Rossi," she greeted, sitting on a stool next to him. "You're sure up early. My name's Dr. Hart."

He gave her an unsure smile, twiddling his fingers.

"How are we feeling today, Mr. del Rossi?"

"Marco," he blurted out. "It's Marco. Mr. del Rossi is...my father."

She gave him another gentle smile. "Marco," she confirmed.

He shrugged, wincing slightly. The pain felt more like an internal hurt. Like he had gotten stabbed from the inside out. "I've been better. My side hurts. A lot. And it looks gross."

Dr. Hart laughed. "Well, that's to be expected. You gave us quite a scare. You're friends too."

"Friends?" He asked urgently. "Who came?"

She looked thoughtful. "I believe a whole bunch came for you, Mr. del- Marco." She laughed. "You must be one important person, I thought the city's entire teenage population was in the waiting room."

Marco blushed and grinned. He shifted himself slightly and asked, "So when do I get out of here?"

She chuckled again at his eagerness to leave. "I'm afraid you'll need to stay with us for a little bit, Marco; the knife went in relatively deep."

Marco looked at her a little panicky. "How deep did it go? Did it...puncture anything?"

"No, no, you were very lucky. Not to say that being stabbed is a good thing, certainly not something you'd want to happen, but if you were going to be you'd pick the exact spot that you coincidentally were. There's no crucial or life-determining organs near that area."

Marco looked surprisingly at her. "Wow," he muttered.

"But that wasn't really the biggest problem," she continued. This was much easier to discuss now that she was sure Marco would have a safe and full recovery. "We had to give you a blood transfusion but you're body just rejected it. I've never seen such refusal of...something so important to life!" She looked completely baffled. "No one knows why..." She said that in a slightly airy tone, lost in thought for a few seconds before turning to beam down at the young Italian. "No one expected you to survive, yet here you are. You're friends nearly had a heart attack when we told them the good news, and I'm actually a little surprised they haven't tried to break in already."

Well where exactly would I go? Marco chortled to himself. Sighing he looked around, waiting for someone he recognized to come to his rescue.

Dr. Hart, luckily, chose that moment to walk through the waiting room and saw Marco del Rossi's visiting committee.

Ryan and Dylan, being the faster ones of the group, stampeded over to her first. They didn't even need to say anything; she simply replied, smiling, "Room 409."

Giving her a fleeting, grateful look, they tore down the hallway and burst through the doors into the Italian boy's room. To their extreme happiness, Marco was lying there, very much awake. He looked startled when they stormed into his room out of the blue, but then smiled as best as he could at them.

No one knew what to say. But, leave it to Spinner to break the ice.

"No offense, but you kind of look like you've lived through a country song," Spinner noted, giving Marco a weak smile. It was the first thing that came to his mind and he wanted to avoid an awkward silence.

Marco smirked, "My dog's fine. The truck runs too." Everyone laughed breathlessly as Marco situated himself around in his bed more comfortably. His eyes fell on Dylan, who was just staring at him with tears in his eyes. He chuckled a little at Marco's joke, but only one thing kept cycling through his mind. He had almost lost his Marco. For real.

"Hey, stop looking at me like that," Marco said gently. "The doc says I'll be fine."

But Ryan's expression shocked Marco the most. He'd never seen Ryan cry before. Heck, he'd never even seen him tear up. But here he was, openly letting tears stream down from his puffy eyes. Without another minute's hesitation, the tall, lanky friend walked over to the younger boy and pulled him into the warmest hug he could muster.

"Don't. You. Ever. Scare. Us. Like. That. Again." Ryan growled in his ear. When he pulled away he ruffled Marco's already messy hair for good measure. Grinning, Marco winked.

Ryan had paved the way for everyone else to give Marco a long and awaited hug, tears in their own eyes. Well, everyone except for Dylan.

Paige saw the look on her brother's face and announced loudly and quickly, "Okay, um here, Dylan, you stay with Marco, we're just going to go...check out the lobby...or...whatever." She quickly ushered everyone out of the room.

"Smooth," they heard Craig mutter as they all left them alone. Spinner, however, was the last to leave. He gave Dylan a long, hard, appraising look that said, _Remember what I said before you went off to University last year? I don't care if you're bigger than me, you mess him up again I swear to god I'll hurt you,_ before following his girlfriend. The older boy winced slightly at his sharp eyes, feeling so weak, before Spinner followed his girlfriend out.

Dylan didn't know what to say. The tears kept falling, even though Marco was obviously alive.

After a few mili-seconds of silence, Marco opened his arms up; looking for the hug he'd wanted the most for God-knows how long. Dylan tenderly leaned down and hugged him, gasping a little as he cried. "I thought...I th-thought," Dylan stammered.

"I know," Marco whispered. "But I'm alright, see?" He pulled out of the hug and spread his arms wide, trying to show the older boy he was fine and _trying_ not to wince in the process. It wasn't too effective, as there was a bloody stitch on his left side and a red line on his neck. He gave him a small smile. "There's no need for tears, _miele __**(honey)**__."_

Dylan's heart sputtered, recognizing Marco's term. He couldn't stop the sobs that escaped his lips as he hugged Marco again more tightly. "I d-don't know what I would've d-done if I l-lost you...And you'd st-still be m-mad at m-me when...if..."

Marco hugged him just as tightly, burying his face into his shoulder. "But I did make it. And I'm not mad at you." He looked into those bluer than blue eyes and gave him a crooked smile. "You were all I wanted to see."

Dylan couldn't say he'd ever been happier to bend down and kiss Marco sweetly. He thought this must be some cruel, twisted dream. Marco was actually forgiving him. He was actually kissing him, holding him, brushing his thumb ever so gently against his cheek and running his fingers through the hair he adored so much. Feeling Marco's own fingers tangle themselves in his blonde locks as his mind whirled with pure relief and ecstasy.

"Marco, I love you," Dylan whispered as he stared into those warm, brown eyes. Oh how he _missed_ him! "I was willing to do anything to get you back. I would've thrown myself off a cliff without a second thought if you asked me to." He didn't know how he could explain to him how much pain this experience had caused him.

Marco laced his fingers with Dylan's. "I don't want you to throw yourself off a cliff, Dyl," he rolled his eyes before looking down at their entwined hands self-consciously. "But I don't want you to forget me again," he said softly. "I don't think I could take this a second time."

Dylan's heart broke and the tears welled up again. He couldn't believe he'd been able to do this to him without knowing...without even realizing...

"I'm so, so sorry," Dylan choked, kissing his hair. "I'll never...I don't know how..."

Marco raised his glistening eyes. "Promise?"

Dylan nodded, tears sliding down his face, and he kissed him with as much love as he could muster, causing Marco to forget absolutely everything as his head spun and his heart pounded. "I promise, Marco. I promise."

* * *

Okay so tell me what you think :) But please, no 'flames,' or really harsh reviews, I am only human after all :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T (just to be consistent :) haha)

**Author's Note: **Again, I just want to say a BIG THANK YOU to **ellielovesdtng **for reviewing :) They make me so happy!

* * *

"Marco, will you just take your pill!" Paige exclaimed, frustrated.

Stubborn as always, Marco crossed his arms and glared at the offending medication. "No." Sure, his wound was hurting like hell, but he _hated_ pills. Ever since he had to take them nonstop last time he went to the hospital, and even when he was recovering, he had a grudge against them. He simply couldn't swallow them anymore. It was downright impossible.

Paige groaned as loud as she could, falling into the chair beside his hospital bed. "That's it. I'm calling reinforcements." She dialed Dylan's number, who had to leave (however reluctantly) because he had a hockey game that afternoon. Though Paige figured it was over by now.

"Hey sis," Dylan greeted, running a towel through his damp curls to dry it. He had literally just stepped out of the shower and into his former/Marco's bedroom when he heard his cell phone on its last ring.

"Your boyfriend is beyond stubborn," Paige grumbled. Marco smirked.

Dylan chuckled, "Tell me something I don't know." He sat on his bed. "What'd he do?"

"He won't take his medicine and it's driving everyone up the wall!"

Dylan faintly heard Marco remark, _"Who exactly is everyone? You're the only one here."_

He stifled a laugh and said, "I'll be there in a sec."

Satisfied, Paige ended the call and looked smugly at Marco who heard the entire conversation. He shrugged, but inwardly he was fuming. The Italian knew Dylan could make him do anything, and he _really_ didn't want to take that pill.

When Dylan arrived he stared amusedly at Marco and Paige arguing once more. "What's this I hear about you not taking your medication?"

Paige stopped short and gave him a grateful smile, whereas Marco stared at him defiantly. "I'm not taking it. You can't make me."

Dylan raised an eyebrow and walked towards him. He crawled into his bed and looked at him mischievously. "Is that a challenge?" He leaned down and kissed him seductively(Paige chose this moment to leave the room). "Please?" He breathed against his skin.

Marco looked at him pleadingly, but Dylan held his ground. It took a few more kisses before Marco finally caved. "Fineeeeeee!" he grumbled.

Dylan grinned triumphantly and quickly grabbed the glass of water and pill, holding it out to Marco expectantly. Glowering at the persuasive boy in front of him, Marco took the pill, and after a few tries managed to get it down. The blonde leaned down to kiss him again, but Marco turned his head to the side, giving him a resentful look.

He gave him a crooked smile and kissed his cheek nonetheless. "Thank you," he told Marco sincerely. He ran his fingers through Marco's soft hair lovingly before getting up. And when he turned around, he froze.

_No way._

* * *

"Marco - honey, get away from there," Dylan called, rolling his eyes and smiling.

Marco looked back at his boyfriend indignantly, arms spread out to the side to keep his balance. "What? I'm fine."

"If you go over I'm leaving you here."

Marco snorted. "That's a lie. You know as well as I do that you'd jump right in after me."

Dylan grinned teasingly. "Wanna bet?"

Marco was balancing on a little curb near the edge of Niagara Falls as they walked. It was far enough away that Dylan was only having a _mild_ heart attack (the authorities obviously wouldn't have made it so it was actually possible for someone to accidentally fall over...plus Dylan would never have let Marco go near it) but close enough that Marco still got a rush. Smiling evilly on the inside, Marco's eyes widened with fake panic and wobbled dangerously.

Dylan's face paled as he sprinted towards him, grabbing his arm. Marco snickered as he stepped down, causing Dylan to glare at him. "That wasn't funny."

"You'd think otherwise if you could've seen you face," Marco grinned.

Dylan stuck out his lower lip, successfully looking hurt. And successfully getting Marco to stand up on his tip-toes and kiss him sweetly. "Forgiven?"

Dylan pretended to look thoughtful. "Maybe...I'm not sure..."

Marco chuckled and gave him a longer, more demanding kiss. "How about now?"

Dylan laced his fingers with Marco's and smiled. "Better."

They walked slowly along the perimeter, enjoying each other's company. It had been a little while since Marco had gotten out of the hospital, and he was ecstatic that he was able to do everything normally again.

To make up for the anniversary that they had missed(ahem. Dylan.), the happy couple traveled to Niagara Falls for the weekend. Neither of them had been since they were really young, and honestly couldn't remember ever going in the first place. Besides, the light show at night was supposed to be beautiful.

Plus, the older boy felt he owed Marco something to make up for how he acted at the hospital. He was a little ashamed, but then again, he had been a little insane as an aftermath of almost losing the younger boy. Dylan had just gotten him back into his life mere days before, and then _he_ shows up and suddenly they have some sort of connection? It drove him beyond crazy, but he had apologized afterwards.

Without warning the entire scene started to flash before his eyes.

* * *

No way.

_Dylan's mouth was hanging open as he stared at the person in front of him. Fury coursed through him._

No.

Way.

_Tim stared back at him, face whiter than a ghost with a mixture of surprise, hurt, anger, and fear as he held a bouquet of flowers._

_Marco couldn't see who was there as Dylan was blocking his view, but he was somewhat nervous because Dylan's muscles had tensed._

_"Dyl? Who's there?"_

_"No one," Dylan replied in a harsh tone. His eyes shot _'don't-you-dare-make-a-sound!'_ daggers at Tim._

_Marco rolled his eyes. "Okay, we'll just go with that."_

_Smirking at Dylan, Tim cleared his throat loudly and announced gently, "How're you feeling Marco?"_

_"Tim!" Marco exclaimed instantly, surprised but sounding happy. "Oh, I uh...I've been better," he answered honestly, fidgeting a little. He couldn't help but notice how Dylan's jaw had set tightly as he struggled to keep himself from pouncing on the visitor when Marco had cried out Tim's name without a hint of hostility._

_"You're body guard's a bit over-protective isn't he?" Tim remarked, pushing past Dylan to sit on the edge of Marco's bed, laying the flowers on Marco's stomach._

_"He's just doing his job," Marco replied with a wry smile, giving Dylan the smallest of winks. Marco sniffed the flowers and gave Tim a ghost of a grin. "Sunflowers eh? You still remembered that?"_

_Tim smiled tranquilly and whispered, "They're your favourite." Just one of the many things Tim had found out about Marco during their coffee-talk sessions._

_Dylan, extremely infuriated, went to go stand by the head of Marco's bed, glaring at Tim._

_The visitor chose to ignore this. "How've you been lately?" He asked softly, giving Marco a knowing look. He remembered how depressed he had been, and _so _wanted to hurt Dylan for it._

_A connection passed through them as they stared at each other, and Dylan's glare, if possible, grew more intense._

_"Better," Marco said slowly, never tearing his eyes from Tim's. Those green eyes looked sadly but acceptingly back at him as Marco's sent him a guilty, yet painfully clear message._

_Dylan was lost, and he didn't like it. Tim placed a hand on Marco's knee, causing Dylan to growl a little. Marco glanced sharply at him, before smiling apologetically at his visitor_

_"I'm glad." But the way he said it made Dylan think he wasn't completely._

_They continued to look at each other, having their own silent conversation as Dylan was bristling beside them. He saw the sorrow in both their eyes and he didn't understand it._

_Tim stood up suddenly and quickly placed an innocent kiss on Marco's forehead. Dylan's arm flashed out but Marco, as if knowing beforehand that Dylan would react this way, had already grabbed at it and held it back._

_Marco gave Tim a bittersweet smile, both of them whispering their goodbyes. He knew he'd never see the younger boy again. It was just too hard for the both of them. They'd disappear from each other's lives, always remembering but never reliving the past or doing more than nod or smile slightly in acknowledgement if they happened to pass each other in the future. Not even that, maybe._

_Dylan glowered after him and failed to notice that Marco's eyes began to prick. He was happy and melancholy at the same time. After everything he and Tim had been through, it was finally coming to a close. This was the ending they had both needed. The ending their old friendship had deserved all along._

* * *

"So what time does it start?" Marco asked suddenly, interrupting Dylan's thoughts. He was talking about the light show.

"Hm? Oh, I'm guessing, you know...when it gets dark."

Marco snickered. "Oh, well, that's very specific."

"Okay Lieutenant Sarcasm, make your jokes," Dylan rolled his eyes but gave him a smile. But the smile was off. "We can always check back at the hotel."

Marco eyed him curiously. He looked like someone just ran over his dog. "What's with the frown?"

Dylan started and glanced down at his boyfriend, smiling guiltily. "Sorry, spaced out for a second."

Marco decided to let it go. He started bouncing excitedly beside him as they walked, and Dylan found this incredibly adorable. The blonde caught Marco around the waist and kissed him sweetly and lovingly. "I feel like I haven't said this in a while," Dylan whispered, a smile playing at his lips. "But I love you."

Marco smiled as widely as he could, his heart soaring. Because it did feel like Dylan hadn't told him in a long time, especially when he had been gone for so long at school. "I love you too," and kissed him back. They didn't care who saw them, because they felt like they had nothing to fear. Nothing whatsoever.

* * *

Marco and Dylan watched in awe as the water continued to fall. Only this time, it was even more spectacular because the colours had finally started to shine. They were magical. Vibrant hues of every colour you could imagine light up the dark sky. They light up the stars, even. Blues, pinks, a mixture of green and yellow, purple...you name it, it was there. Like a rainbow shimmering beneath the powerful, roaring waves. Marco and Dylan's eyes were fixated on sight. They stayed there for a while, just...staring.

People had started to form around them, and for once everyone was too distracted to shoot them disgusted or odd looks. They were, for the moment, just like them. Just visitors witnessing a truly magnificent sight.

Randomly, Marco turned slightly to grin up at his boyfriend and found him smiling warmly back. Without a second's hesitation, Marco wrapped his arms around Dylan's waist, resting his head on his chest. Dylan's strong, muscular arms went around him and he kissed his forehead endearingly.

Words weren't important right now. Neither felt any such need to speak; the gestures were enough. Part of it was because they weren't sure there were any words to describe how they felt, in English or Italian. The other part was they were too absorbed in the Falls.

Both Dylan and Marco loved the water. They could stare at it for days and never get bored. There was just something about it, the way it moved that mesmerized both boys. It could have something to do with how strong it was, how easily it could kill you if it so wished. The sense of dealing with something that was gentle yet rough, and the fact that you had to be careful with it and be always on your guard. Be able to judge whether it was in a good mood or not, because that judgment could cost you your life.

It could also very well be how beautiful it looked. How perfectly blue or sea green it was. It was like a colour you couldn't even describe; it was clear when you separated it, but when in an ocean or sea or whichever, it was a royal or light blue, or a lovely blue-green. Nature, by far, was the pure definition of beauty.

_But that's not true, _Dylan thought as his gaze turned from the Falls to rest on Marco staring fixatedly at the sight. The light that shined from Marco's face reminded him of the sun. _His_ sun. It finally dawned on him that his sun was finally back at full force. Before, he was sad to admit that Marco was still hurting slightly inside, and it tore right through the older boy to see it. Hell, it damn near drove him to tears, though they never actually showed up. But as he gazed at that perfect face, those deep, wondrously gifted, story-telling eyes and that soft, black hair...he knew that everyone else's idea of beautiful wasn't right. Even his personality was beautiful. His kind, forgiving, loyal, funny, smart, trusting and trustworthy, perseverance personality. Those were many qualities, but they weren't even close to all of them. And the elder boy had no idea how he'd ever be able to fully describe his boyfriend that stood next to him. He wasn't even sure there were actual words that could really do him justice.

Dylan was sure about one thing, thought. Nothing nature could ever create in a thousand years could compare to Marco. In a billion, trillion years. He had been told that no one was perfect, but he suddenly realized that that wasn't true. Perhaps they hadn't lied, technically, and their problem might have just been that they had never met Marco. And the thought saddened Dylan slightly because to not meet such a wonderfully beautiful person was almost a sin. Because he _was_ special. _He _was perfect.

He was one in a million, and so much more than that.

It suddenly hit Marco, as he stared into the water, that these colourful Falls were a lot like Dylan. Not because of the obvious connection with the blue of the water to the blue of his eyes, because that wasn't the case. Don't even bother to ask why he suddenly made this connection; his train of thought more often than not bounced from one thing to another, usually having no particular relevance to what he had been thinking before. But, in a way, this one sort of made sense, what with who he was standing next to and what he was staring at. But the point that Marco's however crazily hyper mind made, was that each colour that glistened off the endlessly falling water could(though this wasn't really the big thing that struck him) each be connected to a trait. A trait, or feeling rather. Which Dylan had a lot of, of course, no one could argue with him there, and it was one of the reasons Marco loved him; the many levels that he had. But what really hit him was also that each colour was plainly seen. Nothing was hiding it, nothing was pretending to be something it wasn't, nothing was fake. Which, was exactly how Marco figured Dylan saw the world.

People might compliment Marco on his ability to portray things in his eyes(which he still hasn't fully understood), but the younger boy felt the compliments should be directed towards the blonde boy beside him. Dylan's amazing ability to see things that other people couldn't, see people for who they really were, was really where the recognition should go to. He had been the first one to question Marco's sexuality right? Dylan was the first one, on his own, to think that there was something off about Tim right? There were so many things that Dylan saw that eluded him, like he were seeing life through a magnifying glass. Though recently it had seemed like he were blindfolded, but that didn't matter to Marco. Everyone fell off the wagon once in a while, and the point was Dylan was back, hopefully to stay.

And Marco felt like he should tell him this. So he turned to Dylan and opened his mouth, but found Dylan already staring at him, eyes smoldering with some type of emotion that Marco, for once, couldn't describe. As they looked into each other's eyes, the world fell away. Niagara Falls, the crowd of people pushing and shoving past them to get a better view of said Falls all disappeared. Good riddance, too, because looking or noticing anything other than each other, which both thought were perfection, would just be a disappointment.

They turned to face each other, and as everyone looked at the Falls, Dylan pulled Marco close to him and kissed him full on the mouth. The kiss was gloriously sweet and loving, and it was the final clincher to whatever had been missing. It proved to both boys that they'd never feel so strongly towards another human being as long as they lived. That they were, so to speak, a match made in Heaven.

* * *

Please review! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:**_ Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note: ellielovesdtng: **I LOVE YOU. :D hahaha but not even kidding you are a freaking amazing writer! Don't even try to deny it cause it's true ;) And (though I've said this a million times...) I am so incredibly happy you like it because your review is the one I always look for and it's the one I get the most excited about! And it means so much that you review it each time :D I can't thank you enough!

Plus...

WRITE MORE FOR YOUR SHORT-STORY THING-A-MA-BOBBER! :D I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT :D hahaha

* * *

Marco was pulled into a pair of strong arms as he rested his head on the owner's chest. Dylan closed his eyes and kissed his hair, feeling his heart expand a million and one times larger than the average size. They swayed to the music, not saying a word as they danced. Their relationship had been going absolutely wonderfully. Dylan called Marco religiously, and vice-versa. Marco even drove up to Dylan's dorm from time to time, mostly as a surprise since it made both Ryan and Marco laugh at the stunned but happy expression on Dylan's face when he would open the door and find Marco leisurely lounging on their couch. This time however, it had been planned, and the moment was absolutely per-

"You know, we have light switches for a reason."

Both Marco and Dylan groaned loudly and with feeling. Ryan, not seeming bothered at the fact that he ruined their moment, plopped on the chair next to the couch that was in front of them and grinned.

"You know, we had the door locked for a reason," Dylan responded over Marco's head. His arms had tightened slightly at the entry of their friend, letting his boyfriend know that he wasn't about to let go of him anytime soon. The blonde raised an eyebrow. "How'd you get in?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Please. You think a wooden door's going to stop me? You're talking to the guy who broke into Degrassi six times without getting caught." He looked at Dylan seriously. "And they have guard dogs."

Marco burst out laughing. Dylan loved the sound. "How in the world is that even possible?"

Ryan winked. "I know a guy. Plus lock picking is extremely useful." He nodded his head disdainfully at the iPod that was plugged into the speaker. "You guys obviously didn't hear me with that _thing_ blasting away."

Marco slinked out of his boyfriends arms(with a private groan of contempt from Dylan) and sat on the couch. Dylan vanished into the room next to it as Marco, shaking his head at the lanky boy, said, "I still don't understand why you hate iPods so much."

Ryan glared at the device like it had just insulted him rather rudely. "It's stupid is what it is. What's wrong with the good 'ol stereo anyway?"

"You have to buy the whole CD even if you only like one song?" Came Dylan's voice from the kitchen. The pop of the tabs on the soft drinks that the roommates kept constantly, and almost oddly stocked with followed his answer.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You have to grow to like 'em bro," and he accepted the pop as Dylan came walking back into the room. He sipped on it as Dylan gave one to Marco, giving him an endearing smile which Marco whole-heartedly returned.

Until Marco noticed Ryan mock glowering at him. "What?" he asked almost self-consciously.

"How come you don't look at _me_ like that del Rossi?" Ryan fake pouted, crossing his arms like a three years old.

Marco chuckled, "Would you like me to kiss you too?"

Ryan smiled sunnily and responded, "Yes," and puckered his lips.

Dylan threw a pillow at his head.

"Ow!" Ryan cried dramatically.

"Back off bud," Dylan smirked as he snaked an arm around Marco.

Ryan sighed. "I guess I'll just have to stick with my girlfriend then."

"Who is where, by the way?" Marco asked, vaguely remembering the girl in the light green dress from Prom.

Ryan frowned. "British Columbia, visiting family." But then he grinned. "So you're stuck with me," and he flew his arms behind his head and looked satisfied.

Marco tapped Dylan on the knee and smiled amusedly into his face. "Looks like we have a third wheel tagging along."

"I resent that."

The couple laughed.

"So what's the plan for today?" Ryan asked.

Marco thought for a moment. "Well, what's there to do around here?"

Ryan grinned evilly. "Partyyyyy!"

Dylan groaned. "Ugh. Please, I thought we agreed we'd never go to another one again."

"Nooo, _you_ decided you'd never go to another one again. _I _for one never said such thing. Plus, Marco's never been to a University party before." He winked at Marco.

Marco looked interestingly at Ryan, but Dylan just tightened his hold on Marco and glared at Ryan. "Marco doesn't want to go to that."

"Well, maybe Marco does," Ryan countered back, looking like he was having fun.

"Marco's still in the room," the Italian commented dryly. "And Marco wants to know why they're bad."

Dylan smiled slightly at the exasperated tone of his boyfriend's voice before he got more serious. "To be honest these parties are just a bunch of idiots getting together and drinking and doing stupid stuff."

Ryan snorted. "That's not true. It was the best night of my life. Or, one of them at least."

Dylan smirked at Marco. "That's because he was one of them."

"Was not!"

Marco watched this little battle with interest. Truthfully, Dylan trying to stop him from going was just increasing his desire to go. "What if we only go for an hour or so? Just so I can see?"

Dylan looked hesitant. His eyes were wary because he knew how crazy those parties could get and he didn't want Marco to be in danger. Call him over-protective, but he couldn't help how he felt.

Ryan, however, was beaming at Marco proudly. "Perfect! He won't stay long enough for things to get 'out of hand,' but he can still go!"

Dylan sighed. It wasn't like he was going to force Marco not to go. "Alright I guess...but you are not leaving my sight, got it?" Dylan warned his boyfriend. Ryan had already sprinted out of the room to find out what time the party started and whether it really was tonight.

Meanwhile, Marco smiled up at Dylan and nodded in agreement. The older boy pulled him into a gentle hug, kissing his forehead softly. "I love you," Dylan whispered, seemingly out of nowhere.

But it made Marco smile even wider. "It's so nice to hear that again. I love you too," and he stretched upwards to kiss him sweetly. Dylan instantly cupped his face and kept his mouth on his, even though Marco had only intended it to be a brief kiss. He crushed his lips against Marco's urgently and almost with anguish as if his entire life depended on it. A giggle bubbled forth from Marco's throat and Dylan found himself chuckling too when he heard it. The blonde looked down adoringly at the dark haired boy and simply kissed him repeatedly on the forehead, nose, mouth, anywhere he could reach.

Marco wrapped his arms around Dylan's waist in a form of a hug as he leaned against him, sighing happily. Ryan reentered the room, grinning broadly. "It starts at eight-thirty!"

Dylan chortled, "Great Ryan. Fantastic. Now go away," he kissed Marco's hair again and Marco giggled again.

Ryan rolled his eyes pointedly before leaving the room.

* * *

Marco and Ryan, unbeknownst to them, were both simultaneously doing an odd, excited little bounce as they walked down the street to where the party was going to be held. Dylan walked slightly behind them, seeing this and trying not to laugh. It was as if they were on some kind of similar wave length, or just bouncing to the same song. Either way, it was pretty funny to see.

Dylan was slightly nervous about this party because the first one he went to hadn't been that great. There were drunken frat boys _everywhere,_ screaming at each other and chugging down more beer. Some people were smoking, others were making out with three different girls at once (impressive, right?), and the music was so loud Dylan woke up the next morning in his bed still feeling a little deaf.

Not to mention the fact that everyone, himself included, got hit on. A lot.

That's not to say that he or Ryan ever did anything about it, and he didn't think Marco would _willingly_ do that sort of thing either, but Marco _was_ sort of innocent, and it was like people had a built-in radar for that kind of stuff. The very last thing he would want was for something to happen to Marco when he should've been watching him.

Dylan stepped forward and slipped an arm around Marco's waist, smiling at the wondering and energetic look on Marco's face as they got closer to the door. When it got opened, the three of them immediately got sucked inside and for a terrifying moment Dylan thought he had lost the Italian already. But as he whipped his head around he found him just a few feet off to his left and sighed with relief.

The only way Marco could describe the party was that it was a vortex. A vortex of shouting, drunken jocks, smoke, and music so loud Marco was actually wondering if his ears would start to bleed or his bones would shatter from the vibrations. Something touched him lightly and he jumped, but then he saw it was Dylan merely reaching for his hand and smiled.

They squeezed and maneuvered their way to the dance floor(or rather, a little sectioned off area that _appeared_ to be where most of the dancing took place) and the younger boy's mouth fell open slightly at how many people there were, jammed all in one area. He tried to say something to Dylan but then realized it was pointless; it was impossible to hear _anything_ above the music. Though the drunks seemed to be having a good go at it.

Dylan chuckled to himself at the surprise and awe in Marco's face as he stared at the amount of people there were. Holding on to his hand more tightly, Dylan pulled him over to an area that looked like there was more than a centimeter of space to move and the two of them did their best to dance together with what little room they had.

Ryan had disappeared somewhere for what felt like the longest time, until he randomly came into view grinning and trying to shout something to them. As everyone could guess, it didn't work out very well.

Marco did, however, get the opportunity to meet more of Dylan's friends, which included a fellow hockey player named Daniel, a girl in his English class named Natalie, and two twins from his Science class named Aaron and Jared. They seemed nice enough, but Marco couldn't really get to know them very well since they could barely hear each other.

A few guys tried to dance with Marco, winking at him and pulling on his hand, but Marco just amusedly tried to explain that he was with someone else and at least two years younger than them. And when that didn't work, Dylan stepped in to look all menacing but as soon as they left the two of them burst into laughter. Of course, it went the other way around, except Marco was probably the least intimidating person on Earth so Dylan just happily settled with keeping his arm wrapped firmly around his boyfriend.

By the end of the night and well into the early morning, Marco and Dylan dragged a whining Ryan back to the dorm for some _much_ needed rest. Dylan admitted that this time around was a lot more fun than the first time(though he whispered it in Marco's hear so Ryan wouldn't get any funny ideas) mainly because Marco was there with him. Marco himself didn't find it too bad, but he didn't think it'd be on the top of his 'To Do' list.

Ryan fell into his bed and despite the argument he had put up against going back, he had fallen asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Marco and Dylan quietly snuck into their own bed, arms wrapped around each other contently.

"Thank you for taking me even though I know you didn't really want to," Marco smiled tiredly as he snuggled up to Dylan's chest and closing his eyes.

Dylan returned the smile gently, though Marco couldn't see it, and replied, "Anything for you my love," and closed his own eyes as the two of them drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Reviews are veryyy much appreciated :D haha


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note: **Okay so this is another kinda really long chapter so ENJOY :D and **ellielovesdtng: **THANK YOU THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY :D hahaha and I loved the little 'gossip girl' at the end haha that made me laugh :D

Read and review please :)

* * *

"I'm not going sky diving Dylan," Marco laughed.

"Aw, c'mon you big baby," Dylan's teasing voice came from over the phone. Every time one of them called they often had little debates like this one to keep the other laughing. This time, it was Dylan's turn. "I'm not saying right _now,_ but you know, in the future..."

"You're insane," Marco giggled. He was sitting on the couch, legs sprawled across the entire thing and head resting on a pillow. "What happens if the parachute doesn't open?"

"I'd catch you."

Marco rolled his eyes. "From ten billion feet up? Noooo wayyy."

Dylan chuckled. "I'm pretty sure if we were ten billion feet up we wouldn't have to worry about gravity..."

"Oh you know what I mean."

"Babe, relax, we won't die," Marco could hear the smile on Dylan's face as he continued his teasing.

"_You_ won't. _I_ however, will."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Bungee jumping then?"

Marco laughed, "The day I decide to go bungee jumping will be the day I no longer want to live."

"So...what, tomorrow?" Dylan asked half-hopefully.

"I'm going to hang up on you," Marco playfully threatened.

"No you won-"

But just to prove his point, Marco did. Then instantly called him back. "Sorry, couldn't resist," Marco laughed. He could feel the mock glare directed right at him.

Suddenly there was an impossibly loud thud and static and several shouts of anger and glee.

Marco stared into the phone, surprised and slightly worried. "Uh...Dylan?"

There was a loud slam of a door and the click of a lock before a loud voice greeted into the phone, "Marco! Buddy! How've ya been?"

Marco laughed. "Ryan, please tell me you didn't damage my boyfriend. I'd hate for him to visit me next week in a sling."

_"Ryan! Give. Me. The. Phone!"_ But he was growling playfully. Ryan had locked himself in the bathroom.

"Sorry Dylan! Marco's mine for the time being. And naw, he's a tough cookie," Ryan said in the cutesy way an overly proud parent would. "Besides, wouldn't you rather have me visit you then Michalchuk? I mean, everyone knows he's my cheap imitation..."

Marco burst out laughing as Dylan chuckled and pretended to sound deadpanned, _"Cheap imitation eh? I always knew you wanted Marco..."_ There came a loud bang and both Marco and Ryan giggled.

"We might have to cut this short Ryan, Dylan sounds like he might break down the door."

"Naw, he's just full of hot air. Beside it's not like _he_ can pick a lo-"

There was a click and Marco vaguely heard sounds of roughhousing and the phone got dropped on to the tile. Marco rolled his eyes but smiled and awaited his boyfriend to rescue the phone from the floor.

Dylan got Ryan into a headlock, but the lanky boy managed to slip away and, obviously wishing for a painful death, grinned devilishly as he hung up the phone. Dylan's gaze flickered between Ryan's smirk and the phone in his hand.

Ryan strategically chucked the phone over Dylan's head and into the living room. Dylan ran after it and Ryan swiftly shut the bathroom door shut.

"I am so going to kill you Chandler," Dylan told him as he quickly punched in Marco's number.

"Why do you think I'm still in here?" Ryan's voice was muffled slightly by the door.

"Is this Dylan or Ryan?" Marco's voice asked amusedly when he picked it back up, quickly dissolving Dylan's disgruntled look into a smile.

"Ryan's going to die later, I hope you said your goodbyes," Dylan replied easily.

Marco chortled. "Ah, so it's Dylan. Where is Ryan anyway?"

"Hiding from my wrath in the bathroom."

Marco teased, "Aww seriously? 'Cause I really _was_ hoping he'd come next weekend..."

"I knew it!" Came Ryan's triumphant voice, just barely hearing Marco's words.

They laughed as Dylan moved farther away from where Ryan was hiding behind the door.

"So where were we?" Dylan smiled.

"I think we w-" Suddenly there was a knock at the Michalchuk's front door. "Oh, hold that thought, I think someone's at the door."

"Popular aren't we?" Dylan chuckled. "Go ahead, I'll be right here."

Marco got up, smiling, to answer the door.

Dylan heard a faint, _"Hel-" _before there was a gasp.

"Uh...Marco?" Dylan asked tentatively. Ryan peeked his head out of the bathroom door, curious.

Marco couldn't believe his eyes.

"Marco," Mrs. del Rossi said tearfully. "It's been too long."

* * *

Marco just gaped at her. _Ma...here...what?_

She stood awkwardly in the doorway, wanting badly to hug him. But as she made the slightest movement he flinched and backed away. He shook his head, stunned.

"Marco, I've come to apologize," she whispered.

"Come to apol- Ma, you left me for _dead_," Marco exclaimed, outraged. Dylan looked shockingly into the receiver. _Mrs. del Rossi?_

The young Italian boy, remembering that he had the phone and therefore technically Dylan in his hand, lowered his voice and hissed, "I have nothing to say to you." He tried to shut the door but Mrs. del Rossi jammed her foot into the doorway.

Marco rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I'd really rather not break anyone's foot today, but if that's what it takes..." he pushed harder on the door.

"Marco, _tu sei padre è morto __**(your father's dead)**__,_" Mrs. del Rossi said urgently.

Marco paused in shock. "What?"

Dylan and Ryan, being completely lost, scrambled for the laptop. "Do you have any idea what she said?" Ryan cried as Dylan quickly started it up.

"Why do you think I'm using this? It's not like we have some random Italian dictionary lying around," Dylan responded exasperatedly. Marco probably would've laughed hysterically at their attempts if he'd been able to see it.

"Uh...she said...um...too...say...pah-dray...eh...mor-toe," Ryan said, sounding ridiculous.

Dylan gave him a look. "It doesn't help if we don't know how to spell it Ryan."

Meanwhile, Mrs. del Rossi had started speaking again.

"Shush!" Dylan cried instantly, slapping his hand over Ryan's mouth as a precaution. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"_Lui è morto. Sono finalmente ... Sono finalmente libero da lui __**(He's dead. I'm finally...I'm finally free from him)**__._" Mrs. del Rossi said tearfully. Marco was in shock as a silence fell between them. _She was free?_

Ryan decided to ignore the large hand on his face and instantly typed in how he thought the first phrase sounded. Dylan removed his hand once he saw what he was doing. And started laughing. The first website on the page(thank you Google) read, _**'The Complete Idiots Guide to Learning Italian.' **_Ryan grinned and clicked on it.

"_Cosa vuoi dire tu sei libero? __Che non ... che non ha alcun senso ... __**(What do you mean you're free? That doesn't...that doesn't make any sense...)**_" Marco remarked, completely confused. _Were they or were they not married? How could someone say that?_

"Quick, write that down, write that down!" Dylan cried and Ryan looked slightly harassed as he jumped into action.

"I hope you realize I have no idea what I'm writing!" Ryan almost shouted back as a flurry of nonsensical letters got typed down. They wouldn't see how silly they were acting until afterwards.

"Once he found out you were gay, he changed completely," Mrs. del Rossi said this like her heart was breaking. "I tried to find you, but he was holding me..._ostaggio __**(hostage)**_, almost. As soon as I was able to leave...I came as soon as I could."

Marco didn't know what to say. He couldn't feel anything, it was all too much, all too soon. His father was dead...his mother had been looking for him...she actually loved him...he actually had a mother...she was here right now... "I think I need some time," Marco finally uttered, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

Tears escaped her eyes as she nodded. "Come see me as soon as you're ready," she whispered. Marco nodded robotically and closed the door. He didn't know what to do.

Marco suddenly became aware of the frantic voices on the phone.

"What the hell does _caw-sa...v-woy...dee-ray...too..say...lee-bear-oh. .._ mean?" Dylan asked, frustrated.

"Do I look like an Italian teacher?" Ryan retorted and Marco amusedly heard a series of clicks and grumbles. "Just let me look it up and-"

"You guys are hopeless," Marco chuckled half-heartedly. His mind was still whirling.

Ryan and Dylan jumped, looking at the phone. "Uh...you _are_ talking to us...right?" Ryan asked unsurely.

"Yes, goofball."

"Oh, good, well in that case-"

"What happened Marco?" Dylan interrupted urgently.

"I...My father...my Ma found me..."

"What about your dad?" Ryan asked.

"He's dead." He replied in a monotone.

Their mouths fell open. "What?" they asked together in unison.

"Yeah...I know...I'm not sure how I feel about it yet..." Marco said without really noticing that he was speaking. "I think I'm going to go lie down..."

"Sweetheart, I'm...I'm sorry..." Dylan started to whisper. But he didn't know what else to say.

"No...don't be sorry until I'm sure I am," Marco conveyed numbly.

Dylan nodded, though he knew Marco couldn't see it. He wanted to hold him. Dylan hated being so far away. "I love you baby."

Marco smiled a little. "I love you too Dyl. I'll talk to you later."

"Please."

They hung up, and it wasn't the first time that Dylan loathed the fact that he was away in University.

* * *

Marco lay sprawled out on his bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Despite his hatred towards his father, he couldn't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. All those memories of when he was little splashed before his eyes. The proud look in his father's eyes as he regarded his 'golden boy.' How they would laugh with his mother right beside them. Their inside jokes that would baffle everyone else but them. All of it...gone.

There was now no longer even the slightest possibility of a reconciliation. Not that there was much of a chance before, but he was still alive and therefore there was always a chance...even if it were slim. But he thought everything was over with his father...he thought finally he could get some time and peace away from the problems he would bring _before_ they made up.

The tears had already spilled over and were staining his cheeks, so he didn't bother to fight them anymore, just like how he couldn't fight the age-old questions to come whirling back into his mind. _Why did you hate me, Pa? I couldn't help it, do you hear me? I COULDN'T HELP IT! _He sobbed into his pillow, sufficiently wetting them. _Didn't you know how much your rejection hurt me? Didn't you even _care? _I was still your boy, Pa! Why couldn't you have just accepted that? Don't you know how much I missed you?_

But this wasn't the only problem here.

Marco felt suddenly angry towards his mother. _So she never visits me...I almost die twice, and _now_ all of the sudden she decides to come back? Yeah, right._

But his father, according to her and the phone call he had received a little while after her visit, had died. Her reason _did_ fit the story line...

_Was_ his Ma telling the truth? Did she really not come for him because she was being stopped by her husband? Or was that just her excuse? Marco wasn't sure why it mattered. If she wanted to be in his life now, that should be the important thing right? But it wasn't. If she had stayed away on her own accord, Mrs. del Rossi would have abandoned her only son when he needed her most.

Plus, Marco found it strange that the first thing his mother had to say about his father's death was that she was free. Did that mean she killed him or something? Was she not sad or sorry he was gone? Did he know _anyone _anymore?

Marco had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Dylan hadn't heard from Marco all weekend. He had no idea what his boyfriend had made of all this. The sad thing was, Dylan didn't know if Marco was sad or just...indifferent. It was his father after all, but then again Mr. del Rossi could hardly be considered a man, much less a father. So Dylan really didn't know, and he was jittery and anxious to talk to him again.

Sighing, Dylan made a feeble attempt and signed on to chat, and was surprised but happy to see that Marco was online.

**HockeyPro: **MARCO!

**delStudley101: **hey Dyl

**HockeyPro: **are you okay?

**delStudley101: **hmm?

**delStudley101: **oh. yeah, i'm fine..

**HockeyPro: **_soo_ not going to work Marco.

**delStudley101: **relax. i'm fine, i'm just...i've been trying to figure everything out

**HockeyPro: **i wish i could be there with you

_*EpicPopsiclez has joined the conversation*_

**EpicPopsiclez: **don't listen to him he's lying

**delStudley101: **ryan?

**EpicPopsiclez: **ha hey everybody.

**EpicPopsiclez: **so what're we talking about here?

**HockeyPro: **dude, get out of here.

**EpicPopsiclez: **oo someone needs a nap

**HockeyPro: **i'm serious

**EpicPopsiclez: **oddly enough, so am i

**HockeyPro: **grrr

**EpicPopsiclez: **okay.

**EpicPopsiclez: **since our little dyllie's being a suck...what's up with you del studley?

**delStudley101: **ha actually ryan i was just about to go...i'll talk to you guys later

Marco exited quickly and sat back, staring at the blank screen. He knew signing on would be a bad idea.

The Italian did miss Dylan. But he couldn't talk to anyone just yet, which made him wonder why he signed on in the first place. Distraction was the only word that came to mind.

He didn't feel anything anymore when it came to his father. Not anger, not full on sadness, just a numb sort of grief. The kind that makes your mind go blank and stare unseeingly at the wall, but feeling no need to cry. He wasn't fully over it, that he knew, but he was just in this awkward stage between truly moving on and holding on to the tragedy.

Now, his mother was a different story. He had finally gotten used to not having a real mom and dad. Well, maybe 'used' was a bad word. More like he accepted it, even though he didn't like it. But now all of the sudden his mother wanted back in his life, and things needed to be put back into perspective again.

_*delStudley101 has exited the conversation*_

**EpicPopsiclez: **huh. he sure left in a hurry...think i'm finally starting to scare him?

**HockeyPro: **i hate you.

**EpicPopsiclez: **wow, i'm a popular guy today

**EpicPopsiclez: **don't you find it strange that we're in two separate rooms, talking over messenger?

**EpicPopsiclez: **shouldn't we be talking, oh i dunno, in person?

**EpicPopsiclez: **i mean, i know we're lazy...but this is just sad...

"Okay, I hate you," Dylan said bluntly as he appeared at the doorway of Ryan's room, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms. He glowered at his friend.

Ryan leaned back into his chair, hands behind his chair as he looked unconcernedly back at him. "And may I ask why?"

"You interrupted my conversation with Marco."

Ryan looked disbelievingly at him. "Did you forget what happened a few days ago? It's really nothing new."

Dylan wasn't feeling any less angrier. "But he's going through a hard time right now, and I haven't talked to him all weekend."

Ryan leaned forward in his chair. "Is that... with the phone conversation?"

Dylan nodded.

Ryan's face shifted into sympathy. "Ouch. How's he taking it?"

Dylan through his arms up in frustration. "I don't know! You interrupted us before I could really find out anything!"

Ryan grinned apologetically. "Oops, my bad."

Dylan groaned as he left the room.

* * *

Marco had stayed home all week. It really didn't help him out of his homework situation, which, sadly, he was still drowning in, but it did give him some space to think. To breathe, because to be honest, the house had begun to feel rather stuffy.

The only real interesting thing that happened was Paige, so far out of the loop, got irritated and started shouting random accusations at Dylan for putting Marco in this mood. The older blonde had tried explaining to Paige soothingly that something had happened and Marco was just taking some time to think things over, but she didn't buy it. At least until a bemused Marco told her bluntly that his father died. And so, the apologies began.

Paige had stared horrifyingly at Marco, two hands cupped over her mouth as if that would stop her from speaking. But as everyone can guess, it didn't work. "I'm so sorry Marco!" she cried, hugging him. Marco imagined that's what Dylan would have done had he been in his sister's position.

"No worries Paige, but I would appreciate a little alone time," Marco had told her in a formal, slightly deadpanned voice.

He surprisingly got what he wanted.

Now, however, was Friday, and Marco felt like he was about to pull his hair out. Dylan would be coming later that evening, and he wanted to get this whole thing sorted out before he got there. Unfortunately, that left him with very little time.

Believe her...or no?

It was a good thing Marco had gotten up so early that day, because he honestly didn't have a clue what to say. He felt completely stuck, and then, it eventually hit him.

Marco sprung off the bed he had been lying like a corpse on, startling the perfectly even covers as they flew off of him. _Why not go ask her himself?_

The Italian quickly got dressed into fresh clothes and ran out of his bedroom. His hair was a complete mess, but it was the least of his concerns. Marco flew past a surprised Paige as he headed towards the door.

"If you're planning on going to school today, it would be nice of you to wait for me," Paige said sarcastically. She obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Marco sent a silent prayer towards Spinner as he furiously choked out, "Got to...back soon...Ma..." and he was out the door.

Marco bounced down the steps until he paused at the end of the driveway, suddenly realizing that he didn't know where exactly his mother was staying. Not at his old house surely...

But, Marco thought it'd be better safe then sorry, and he turned sharply on his heels towards the right and walked swiftly on the sidewalk. He thanked to god that his old(could he really call it his home? More like a prison...) house was only a few minutes away. Of course, that was in a car...and he did have a car...but he hardly used it too much. Marco didn't know why, but he liked walking better. Unless, you know, it was twenty miles away.

He was just a scenery type of person. And in a car, you can hardly stare fixatedly out the window without successfully killing yourself and whoever else was with you at the time. Now, however, he could. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. Marco had no idea what he'd find there...he hadn't seen his old house since he got brutally mauled by his father...and he hadn't expected to see it so soon either. Or ever, really.

And he didn't know what he'd leave knowing. That Mrs. del Rossi was a liar and a worthless mother, or a poor lady held like a captive by her so-called husband. As horrible as it sounded, Marco secretly wished on the second one. Though the thought of his mother being a 'hostage' by his now deceased father was disturbing to say the least.

And before he knew it...he was there.

Marco stood at the edge of the property, just staring at it. A cold sense of dread and misery threatened to engulf him, but he fiercely bit it back as he took half a step forward. He kept his mind determinedly blank as he unsurely knocked on the door, and waited.

There was a little squeak as the door flew open and Mrs. del Rossi instantly threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. However Marco remained stock-still, hands buried in his pockets. His mother didn't seem to care until he became more and more stiff and attempted to back away. She looked at him, a little hurt and confused.

"Marco? _Cosa c'è di sbagliato? __**(What's wrong?)**__"_

Marco's eyes were dark and stormy, his face appearing much older than it was. "Just because I'm here, doesn't mean I believe you. That's actually why I _am_ here. I want the truth, Ma."

The way he said this sounded much more powerful than just an almost seventeen year old speaking to a parent. It sounded like the reverse, truthfully.

Mrs. del Rossi regarded her son with a bit of fear. Not in the sense like she was afraid he'd hurt her or something, but she had become afraid of the man he was slowly becoming. He wasn't quite there yet, but he had certainly changed a lot since a year and a half ago. And she had missed it all.

"Come sit."

Marco obeyed, though he felt a sickening nausea sweep over him. Being in this house...it felt all too real. Tears threatened to start up again. _No, I thought I was over that!_ Marco growled in his head. He perched himself on the edge of the couch as if expecting to dart out of there at any moment.

Mrs. del Rossi sat in the same chair Mr. del Rossi had sat in as he waited with a goofy smile to hear what Marco's 'news' had been, though Marco didn't think she realized. But that only made this whole experience even harder.

She watched him closely, but he kept a carefully blank visage as his dark eyes watched her with careful consideration as well. His eyes held all the bent up emotion he hid so well which, unbeknownst to him, had somehow transferred it into sheer strength.

"I would never lie to you Marco. I've missed you," tears leaked out of her eyes. "And I love you. The day you...the day he...when the _paramedici __**(paramedics)**_ took you away...I couldn't believe my eyes!" She looked lost in her own retelling, subconsciously shifting more and more back into her Italian language. "I...I was so afraid, but _dopo che avevo ottenuto ... superato lo shock __**(after I had...gotten over the shock)**__,_ I tried to go see you! But he...he _minacciato __**(threatened)**_ that he would..." she burst out into tears, covering her face with her shaky hands.

Marco couldn't stand it anymore. He got up and pulled her into his arms, rocking back and forth slightly like she would always do for him when he was little. It was then that he finally believed her.

He whispered sweet, consoling nonsense into her ears, holding her tightly. "It's okay Ma, just...just stop. I don't need to hear anymore," he whispered gently.

Mrs. del Rossi nodded into his shoulder, tears staining it. _"I. .. io non l'ho ucciso ... non ho ... è successo così all'improvviso __**(I...I didn't kill him...I didn't...it happened so suddenly)**__..."_

"Shh. I know," Marco replied. And he did. He now knew his mother was too fragile...too gentle to do anything so treacherous. He knew it wouldn't make sense.

They stayed in their embrace for a long time, the tables turned as _Marco_ held his _mother_ instead of the other way around. And even when they broke apart Marco still didn't leave. He couldn't, not after almost two years of never seeing her.

Mrs. del Rossi was gloriously relieved Marco was accepting her back. She knew they still had a long way to go before he was ready to fully say she was his mother again, but the fact that he stayed the entire morning and well into the afternoon said something.

They cooked and chatted about aimless things, just wanting to keep the other talking so there wouldn't be any awkward silences. But as it got close to being sundown, Marco suddenly realized that Dylan had come home a good two hours ago, and was probably anxiously waiting for him. He could feel a smile creep on his face at the thought of seeing him again, though his mind was in a slight panic.

It had been a little while since he had to go back to University, but they had been planning on this day for a while, and now that it was finally here, he was _late?_

Marco bounded towards the door, startling his mother for a few seconds, saying, "I'm sorry I have to go! I'm late for...something."

Mrs. del Rossi gave him a gentle smile, as if knowing exactly what he was running to. But her smile was sad too, just like any mother would at seeing her child grow up and away from her. She knew he'd be well taken care of, though, and with that thought she called out her goodbyes as the door swung shut behind him.

* * *

Marco walked quickly back to his home, this time not paying any attention to what was around him, because not of it would be as impressive as the older boy.

As he barreled through the front door, a huge pair of arms engulfed him almost instantly, holding the Italian close to his chest in a tight hug. That musky scent filled Marco's senses and he smiled widely as he buried his face into Dylan's shoulders, his own arms going around Dylan's waist.

After a moment, Marco felt, as well heard, a deep chuckle vibrate through his body. The younger boy looked up into Dylan's face, slightly confused. "What's so funny?"

Dylan's eyes twinkled down at him, a smile etched into his face. "I just realized how much I missed you." But there was an underlining of worry in his expression.

Marco beamed up at him however, heart lighter than air. Paige stared, openly confused, at the grin on his face. Sure, she figured he'd be ecstatic to see him again, but he looked ten million times more...peaceful, somehow.

Marco and Dylan still hadn't pulled out of their embrace. Dylan had moved on to kissing the head of hair underneath his chin lightly over and over again before nuzzling his face into it. Inhaling deeply, Dylan felt his heart swell larger than the universe. The soft locks of dark hair were almost impossibly soft as they caressed his face. The love that was between them crackled and sparked in the air, too obvious for anyone who had eyes not to notice.

The older boy every so sweetly bent down to graze the gorgeous Italian's lips with his own, cherishing the feeling and committing it to memory for a rainy day. He pulled back and smiled, his hands moving down to hold one of Marco's hands as he lead him to the living room silently. The blonde sat on the couch before pulling Marco on his lap, holding him around the waist snugly.

The younger boy kissed him on the neck as Dylan whispered concernedly, "Is everything okay?"

He felt the boy nod and respond, "Better. Everything's fine." But Dylan hated that word 'fine.' It was too often used as a substitute for what they actually meant, which was normally the exact opposite.

Dylan pulled Marco back slightly so he could look into those deep, rich brown eyes, searching for any signs that he was lying. There seemed to be a wall up behind them, shielding Dylan's piercing blue sapphires from his thoughts, before it gradually fell away. Dylan was sad to say that that wall had been built because of him.

But he saw everything that he felt. Pain was still evident in the tornado of emotions in there, but it looked...somehow like it was healing. Don't ask him how he figured that just by looking in his eyes, but it was the first thing that came to mind and it seemed to fit. Happiness and a little uneasiness, too, had come forward, along with several enigmatic feelings Dylan didn't have a name for.

Marco smiled, slightly amused, at himself. He felt like he was being severely scrutinized by the teen's eyes as they bored into him. It made him feel uncomfortable, being watched that closely, and after a while Marco couldn't take it anymore. "You alright there?" He asked with a slight smirk.

Dylan, seeming to come out of the trance those eyes had put him in, replied, "Me? I'm good. You? I'm not so sure."

Marco tried his best to simper reassuringly. "I really am fine, Dyl. I went to go see my mother today..."

The older boy looked at him with shock. "What?"

"She wasn't lying. You can just see it in her eyes...she really did feel trapped. And I mean, can you really imagine my mother shooting my dad? Just because we're Italian doesn't mean we're part of a mafia," Marco rolled his eyes.

Dylan grinned. "I guess I can't really picture it, but what about..."

Marco looked a little downcast. "The funeral's next week, actually. But I'm not sure I'll be able to stand being stuck in a room with a million loud del Rossi's all either mourning my father, or trying to stab me with a fork. Being gay isn't exactly one of my family's favourite things."

"Don't you think a knife would work better?"

Marco smacked his arm, but smiled in spite of himself. "You shush," he playfully instructed.

Dylan saluted him and Marco groaned, sliding off his lap and walking into the kitchen. The blonde instantly followed him, slipping his arms around the boy's waist as Marco turned on the coffee maker, randomly remembering that he didn't have his almost religiously followed standard cup of coffee. Dylan rested his head on Marco's shoulders as he started putting it together.

"You know, I've become sort of a caffeine addict," Marco remarked as he worked.

"Huh, really? You used to hate it nearly two years ago." Dylan smiled. "Before I asked you out. Didn't you call it like a fake high and threatened to beat me with a wooden bat after I said I'd force you to drink it some one day?"

Marco burst out laughing, "I can't believe you remember that!"

Dylan beamed. "I'm just that amazing."

Marco turned around and kissed him gently but briefly. "Yes you are Michalchuk. But don't get a big head about it, I still have my wooden bat." He waved a finger at him threateningly.

Dylan chortled and leaned down to kiss him more deeply, pinning him against the counter. They hardly noticed that the coffee maker's light had gone on until the hot pot suddenly burned Marco's back. He shrieked against Dylan's lips and jumped forward, whirling around to see at what had burned him. Dylan, surprised at first, started chuckling at the bewildered expression on Marco's face and rubbed his shoulders comfortingly.

"Ow," Marco murmured as he poured two large mugs with the steaming liquid.

"Poor baby," Dylan cooed, kissing his cheek in thanks as he took a heart felled sip of his cup.

Marco grinned, but as he turned around he found himself pondering what he would do. Go to the funeral? The family, to be honest, wasn't sure they'd let Marco come. It was cruel, sure, but to them they didn't consider him a del Rossi, especially after his father practically disowned him. And this was the part that hurt him the most.

Though the other side, mostly his mother's side, supported him whole-heartedly and looked down upon his father's side, but Marco wasn't really sure whether he'd want to start World War III just yet.

Plus he did hate his father to an extent. But he was still his father, and despite what his father tried to make everyone believe, he was still his son. And he still had this obligation.

He toyed with the idea of asking Dylan to accompany him to the funeral, but he couldn't put him through that. And he certainly wouldn't want Dylan to see him like that.

Dylan watched Marco carefully as he stood, dazedly staring out the window with coffee in his hand. He looked conflicted and pained, but suddenly he seemed to come out of his reverie and his face smoothed over. Marco sipped his drink, completely unaware of the piercing blue eyes boring into him.

_Talk to me Marco. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours? _Dylan thought urgently.

_Talk to me._

* * *

Okay so sadly..

The next chapter is the last one :(

I'm actually _really_ sad.

But I guess it has to end sometime right? :(

Please review anyway though :) they make me happy :)

But please review anyway! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **_Forget Me Not_

**Author:** Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **Though I haven't said this in any of the other chapters...I do not own anything from Degrassi whatsoever... :(

**Author's Note: **Aww...this is the last chapter...in the series...now I'm going to have to start from scratch next time :P haha but seriously this is sad... :( But I really hoped you liked the entire story from both _'Holding On' _and _'Forget Me Not' _:D And I want to say thank you to everyone who read it, but ESPECIALLY to **ellielovesdtng** who is the bestest :)

hahaha and ellie it's okay that you don't have it up just yet as long as it gets up soon! :D tehe and I know I really liked writing Ryan loll :)

So, being the last chapter of this particular series...

I'm expecting reviews! :D

* * *

Marco stood off to the distance, away from the rest of his giant, loud family. More people than he could count shot him withering looks, and each time he flinched, feeling the urge to run away becoming stronger with each look. It was probably a mistake, coming to his father's funeral. But he knew his guilty conscience would kill him more than being here with his hating family members. And it would last longer.

Dylan would be coming to pick him up soon. He had asked that small favour of him, not trusting himself to drive home alone without getting in a car crash. The older boy had gently offered to come with him, but he had denied. This was something he needed to face alone.

He stood stock still, staring at the exposed white, dead face of his father. It was downright the scariest thing he had ever seen in his life. The man he had once respected so much...he had once loved so much was lying there...dead. And he probably didn't even want him there to begin with.

One by one they all walked up to mutter a few words of solace before they closed the coffin completely, but still Marco stayed away in his own frozen horror. Soon, however, they all dispersed before coming up to the grave where Mr. del Rossi would be buried. The graveyard was a rather pretty place, and in spite Marco would've normally said his father didn't deserve it. But how could he now? His father was dead and he realized that mocking or screaming at this lifeless corpse would not do anyone any good. Least of all himself.

Gradually but surely the entire family gathered to stand around the grave dug into the ground as the priest read a passage from the Bible. He then gave everyone a sympathetic look before asking if anyone had anything to say. Marco had _a lot_ to say, but not now. Not in front of all these people. He gave the slightest shake of his head, mouth pressed into a thin line to keep it from quivering as the coffin got lowered into the grave.

Mrs. del Rossi sobbed into his shoulder, and he comforted her as best he could, trying to stop the tears form leaking out of his own eyes.

It took longer than he had expected, but finally everyone started to move away from it, including his mom. No one wanted to be alone with the gay son and the dead father.

Marco thanked to God as everyone finally left. He collapsed to his knees in front of the freshly planted grave stone. Marco didn't even concern himself with what was written on it. He just stared fixatedly at the ground, the tears finally breaking free. He stayed quiet for a long time.

"Pa," Marco whispered suddenly in a choked voice. It was so low only the wind and the trees knew he had spoken. "It's...it's been a while."

The tombstone seemed to shudder with the sudden strong, cool breeze as if responding, _Yes. Yes it has._

"Did you...have you ever...ever once regret hurting me, Pa? I've been...I've been wondering that since the day it happened, as you've probably wondered if I've ever regretted being gay." The words seemed to flow from his mouth, failing to notice the shadow of a figure behind him.

"To be honest, sometimes I do wish I could've lived up to your standards," Marco confessed quietly. "I sometimes stay up at night, wondering what my life would've been like if I was...normal. But Pa, what I don't think you understand, is that I'm happy being gay." Marco smirked without a trace of humour as he added, "I can imagine the look you would've given me, but I need you to let me finish. This is probably the last chance I'll ever get."

He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before continuing. "It's not easy. It's not easy being looked down upon not only by ninety percent of the world, but by your own father. It's enough to make anyone wish they were never born, or at least born as someone else. And I guess I would've lived that life too, if I hadn't met someone. But I did, and he's my entire world. Amazingly enough, he's stuck with me through everything. And I love him, and I'm sure if you had given him a chance, you would've grown to love him too. But you never could give me that, could you Pa?"

Marco sighed. "It's not a sin, you know. Being gay isn't a sin, though you obviously thought differently. I never could understand your hatred of people like me, but whether I understood it or not, there it was, staring at me every second of the day. But even though you convinced yourself that I wasn't your son and you didn't love me, I did. I both hated and loved you. How that's possible, I really don't know, but I did and I still do. I almost didn't come today, you know. But my love overcame my hate for the time being. And here I am, talking to a piece of stone like a crazy person, when I should be at home, despising you with my entire being. Yet I'm still here Pa, and you know why? Because I can forgive. I may not forget, but I can forgive. Something you never could."

Suddenly a large pair of hands rested on his shoulder, and he didn't bother to look around. He knew who it was.

"If you could only see how happy I am now, I can't help but think that you'd eventually come around. But I guess it's a bit late isn't it?" He felt the body that was connected to the hand shift restlessly, wanting to hug the sorrowful boy, but Marco still had more to say. "I guess what I'm really trying to say around all my babbling, is that I'm sorry you didn't want me a part of your life, and I'm sorry I disappointed you so much. And though I never got to tell you before you died, you'll always be my dad, and a part of me will always love you the way you were. The way we were. The way we were supposed to be."

Marco pulled out a single rose from underneath his coat and placed it on the grave. He had kept it safe form the wind, oddly wanted to keep it from breaking apart. It wasn't the traditional flower of death, but it was a symbol of love, and ultimately that's what Marco wanted to remind his father of. He sat there in silence and let the strong arms go around him and pull him up. Marco turned around, glanced into those watery blue eyes before burying his face into his boyfriend's chest, crying as quietly as he could. He let all the pain that had ever been caused by the deceased man leak out of him because he promised himself he would never cry over him again.

It took a while, but eventually Dylan half carried the depressed Italian into his car. With a soft kiss to the forehead and a whispered order to fall asleep, Marco slipped into a peaceful, dreamless state of unconsciousness. The younger boy deserved this much, at least, if nothing else.

* * *

Almost ten years had gone by since Mr. del Rossi's death. It had been hard at first, _extremely_ hard. The younger boy often felt like he was losing himself at times. You could see it in his eyes. The metals bars and brick walls had piled up strongly against outside viewers, and you felt a desperate, almost insane feeling if you stared into them. Like you were a caged animal trying to get out. It would send an empty shiver down your spine, and you would avoid looking at them at all costs.

But Dylan had always been there, giving him soft words of love and encouragement. He became the only thing that could take that suffocating feeling away. The only thing Marco could cling to in an effort to retain his sanity.

And, like everything else, he had finally begun to move past it.

This was what he thought of as he stood in front of a familiar building. It had been years since Marco had seen Degrassi. Years. He smiled amusedly to himself, seeing that not a thing seemed to have changed about it. Except, you know, the people.

He didn't know why he suddenly had the burning desire to visit the old building, but he did. And no one, not even his husband, could have changed his mind about it. To be fair, Dylan _had_ pointed out that they lived a good two or three hours away, but still.

Marco wasn't going to go in; it was a school day after all. He just wanted to look at it. Remember everything that had gone on in those walls, both the good memories and the bad.

It was good to look back on the past, remember who you once were. Remember how cavalier and wonderfully insane they'd been half the time. How some days you damn near believed you could fly. It felt nice to close your eyes and picture those days, back when Marco was naïve and Dylan was showing him how to live. Back at how amazingly free it felt to be so young and be held by the man you loved.

Marco, at least, still got to feel that last one.

Yes, it was good to look back and remember. Remember those sleepless nights, those secretive smiles directed at him from Dylan, the nervous excitement he had felt when Dylan first asked him out on a date, those nightmares...

Oddly enough, he hadn't had a single 'prediction-dream,' as Dylan liked to call them, since the one about the knifeman a _long_ while back. Marco didn't know why that was for a long time, but that morning, as he watched Dylan open up the newspaper and sip on his coffee, watched him smile and ruffle Max and Danielle(their two adopted kids)'s hair lovingly as he had done to him so many times, it hit him. It was also then that he felt the urge to visit Degrassi.

Hands in his pocket, he walked a little to the side and stared at the window he had peered out of when he realized he was trapped in the school with a killer. He damn near almost died because of that man. He still had the scars from the wound, and he thought he could almost feel them start to throb again as those scenes flashed before his eyes. But in a way, he was a little glad it happened. It was this that really pushed him and Dylan back together. Who knows how long it could've taken if it hadn't happened? What if he had been stupid enough to hold a grudge? What if he had never been happy again? What if he had chosen to let him go? These thoughts often terrorized him at night and Marco would then proceed to squeeze his eyes shut and feel the urge to slap himself in the forehead for his stupidity.

You see, Marco had a whole different perspective of the nightmares now. Before he loathed and feared them, but it hit him this morning what they actually were. Sure, they were 'predictions,' and he did, however grudgingly and unwillingly, consider himself to be some bad imitation of what a psychic would be, but what changed was that Marco found himself believing that he had had them to help him find some stability and love in his life. What would have happened if he hadn't told his father he was gay? Would he and Dylan have actually lasted very long? Or the whole instance with the knifeman?

There were so many 'what ifs' that Marco could barely count them all. He had finally found that in Dylan, and no dreams had ever terrorized him again. And he actually found himself, as odd at it sounds, missing them a little. They made him feel unique, though Dylan had told him time and time again that he'd always been and would always be that way in his eyes. It was strange and crazy and utterly ridiculous, but how many things in this world weren't? Though he would get little flashes at night sometimes(he liked to joke 'to remind him that he was still just as strange now as he had been in the tenth grade'), but they were mostly about when Max or Danielle would get sick or what the news reporter would say the next morning. Nothing more than that.

But that was okay. He finally had the perfect life he had always dreamed of. Marco had his mother back, a gorgeous and wonderful husband, two beautiful adopted children, and all the friends he had made back when he was in high school. He glanced at his watch. He should be getting home soon, or Dylan would start to worry. His husband's over-protective nature about Marco hadn't changed in the least, and Marco still found it cute. Not to mention the fact that Ryan, his wife Keely, Paige, Spinner(also Paige's husband), Ellie, Sean(Ellie's husband), and the entire rest of their huge gang were all coming for dinner since today was their 'friendship anniversary.' Corny? Yeah, you could say that. But they all thought that it meant something that despite everything they've been through, they all remained friends.

He gave the building one last lingering look. The Italian felt his eyes prick a little because he really did miss the school and everything that had happened inside of it. It was a piece of him, no matter how dorky that sounded, and it saddened him to leave. However, he did eventually gather up the guts to nod at it as if it were a real person in departing, as if he were giving it his respect, before turning away, getting into his car, and beginning to head back to his perfectly happy life. The life he now, however surprising it may seem, actually lived in.

The life he had dreamed of since the day he met Dylan.

* * *

Again, thank you everyone :) Hopefully I'll be back up soon with another story (ellie ;)) to bother you guys with :D hahaha

~ S.D.


	10. IMPORTANT NOTICE

DON'T PANIC.

If you don't remember favouriting and/or following me, you're not going crazy. You've just done so while I was under a different name.

I'm still the same author; my name has just been changed. Why, you ask? Well, it's a bit of a funny story.

You see, some 'followers' I guess you can call them have added me on Facebook, and I'm not discrediting that; I love talking to you guys. But being the fool that I was and using my real name as my (former) username, some have abused the faith I put in you guys. For the past little while, I've been getting an alarming amount of messages on my Facebook from people who really didn't become my friend to talk about writing 'so to speak.' All the people who have done this have been blocked and unfriended and all that (if you haven't been blocked, then don't worry about this; we're still friends!), but I'm forced to change my name.

Unfortunately, in nearly all of my stories (if not all) I have listed my (former) username, so starting TOMORROW MAY 1ST I am going to be reuploading all of my stories with the changed name listed. Don't worry; nothing else will be changed, and any stories that you favourited/followed should still be accessible to you. But sadly, I'm afraid that all of your lovely reviews might be erased Please don't feel the need to re-review them, but if you are so inclined, they will always be appreciated.

And I must ask to any of you that are my friends on Facebook that I haven't blocked, PLEASE do not talk about any of my stories on my wall. Inbox me instead. I must be strict about this; starting tomorrow, if I find any comments regarding my works, they will be deleted. If you persist, I'm afraid you will also be unfriended and/or blocked.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience to the people who have been nothing but kind to me.

I'll be posting this notice in all of my stories as well as on my profile.


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